Je Suis Prest
by AtHeart150
Summary: AU Jamie and Claire find each other in 1946 Inverness
1. Chapter 1 - Traveler

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Outlander_ \- All Characters and rights belong to their respective creator Diana Gabaldon. I just tweaked them.

I open my eyes. I am on the ground, in what I think is wet grass. My head hurts and my hand instinctively goes to my forehead. My eyes are unfocused, everything I see is a blur. I cannot seem to make anything I look at come into focus. But then, I am flat on my back, looking straight up into the rain. What is there to focus on, I ask myself? Someone must have hit me over the head. When I remove my hand from my forehead, it has blood on it. It is raining, not heavily, more of a gentle mist and it washes the blood off quickly. My shoulder hurts and when I place my hand on it, I see stars the pain is so bad. I must have hurt it when I fell. There are rocks on the ground as well; figures I'd fall on a rock. I think I have at least badly bruised it, might have even knocked my shoulder out of joint. Wonderful. Who's going to fix that for me? I slowly sit up, holding my one arm tight against my body with my other hand and look around. Stones. I am in the middle of a circle of stones. At the foot of a really large one in the center of the circle. It has a split down the middle of it.

Suddenly I remember where I am, what I was doing and leap to my feet. I wobble because the sudden movement makes me dizzy. I lean against the really large stone to steady myself. I have closed my eyes tightly because of the pain from moving my shoulder so suddenly. I realize I have no weapon; no sword or dirk. I look down and they are both on the ground close by. I look up again. Where is my horse? It was shot right out from under me. It should be here lying on the ground. Murtagh. Where is my godfather? He was trying to help my up onto the back of his mount. That's the last thing I can remember. Where are my Uncle Dougal, Rupert, Angus and the rest? And the British soldiers? I hear no Gaelic war cries. No pistol fire or swords striking in battle. The only sound I hear is the patter of rain on the tree leaves. Where the bloody hell is everyone? I turn in a circle and find nothing but emptiness and quiet. Damn, that makes my head spin. I have to lean against the stone for a second time and it takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to focus once again. I have to stop doing that, sudden movements are not good for my head.

"Murtagh!" I shout. "Dougal. Rupert. Anyone. Does anybody hear me?" Nothing. No answer. Then I hear a roar and splashing coming from down the hill. I find and start down a dirt path toward the only noise I hear. I stop and pick up my sword and dirk as I leave. I always ken being able to see in the dark would be a help someday. Jenny used to laugh and call me a cat because I could see a mouse move in the dark in the kitchen at Lallybroch. She'd always ask me to stay up and catch them because I was better mouser than the cat she had; I told her to stop feeding the damn creature cream and maybe it would get hungry enough to work for it's food. I can still hear her laugh and it makes me smile.

At the bottom of the hill there is a path. It is a funny sort of path. It is a large square with a short fence around it and some white lines drawn on the surface of the path. At the far end of the path there are two openings, where there is no fence or gate. I walk toward and though the farther of the two openings. I hear another roar and turn left and follow the sound. Down a small slope and around a bend and I find the trail I am on ends. I can either turn left or right onto a new path. I start walking, staying in the center of the path as I travel. The rain is still coming down and feels good, like home to me. I have been in France for almost two years, working as a mercenary and the thing I missed the most, besides Jenny, were the rains of Scotland. My home, my heart and my blood was and is Scotland. A beautiful land, like no other. I had missed Lallybroch verra much. I guess I was walking home. If that was Craigh na Dun then I was at least a weeks walk from Jenny. Maybe I could trade for a horse or a cotter would give me a ride on the back of his wagon. It's funny I think to myself. All this rain yet the path never muddies.

I do not know how long I have been walking only that I am deep in thought and do not hear the roar until I see the lights. From behind. It is too late for me to run. I turn to face my destiny and find I am blinded by the light as it hits me in the eyes. Those are some verra bright lanterns and lots of them. I must be dead. That is it. I am dead and at Our Father's Heavenly Gates. I hope my mother, father and Willie are there to greet me. Willie. I have not thought of him for years... Suddenly the blinding light makes a noise "Beep Beep". I put my hand up to my eyes and try to shield the light and I see a shape walking towards me.

"Are you alright sir? Are you hurt? Do you need help?" The shape speaks to me...

"Am I dead?" I ask the shape. "Have you come to take me to Our Heavenly Father?"

He walks toward me. The shape transforms into a face. A very kind face. A very concerned face. He extends his hand out toward me and says "Let me help you, young man. You are quite wet from all this rain and you are walking in the middle of the road. You are going to be hit if you are not careful. Let me give you a lift to where ever you need to go."

When the shape extends its hand, I realize it is a man. The hand does not hold a weapon. It is offering peace and help. I am not dead but clearly I am somewhere I have never been before. The man is dressed strangely. But then the French way of dress has a leg up on this man. The Frenchmen, well let's just say I would never be caught dead in all that silk, ribbons & lace, woman's hose & shoes and wigs. Never.

The man has me by the arm and starts to guide me toward the light.

"Ooch." I say and grab my shoulder. I drop my sword and dirk from my free hand when I do and they clatter when they hit the path. My weapons should not 'clatter' when they hit dirt, only when they hit something hard like rock or another sword.

"You're hurt." he says. "Come with me. My niece is a nurse. She will fix you up. Let me help you to the car." He bends down to pick up my weapons, but I am faster and beat him to them. The sudden movement makes me light headed again and I immediately drop them again and start to wobble. I lean on the man in an effort to keep my feet. I realize that I am almost a foot taller that this man. I allow him pick up my sword and dirk and we walk toward and then passed the lights, on the edge of the path. There is a very small carriage behind the lights and it is making the rumbling noise. I see no horses in front of it nor did we pass any at the back where the lights are. The man grabs something on the side of the carriage and the door swings open. I do not need steps to climb up and into it as the carriage is very short. I can easily rest my elbows on the top of it. It must be specially made for the little man. He steps passed me and around the front of the coach and he opens what looks like a large traveling trunk strapped there. He unstraps, opens the lid, places my weapons it, closes and re-buckles it. He walks back to me and says...

"Yes. Yes, I see it is going to be a bit of a squeeze for you, won't it. Let me adjust the seat for you then." He does something and the carriage bench moves backwards. "Try getting in now." With the man's help, I am 'in' to his satisfaction and he closes the door. It thumps me in the arm but it is not the hurt shoulder's arm thank god. I am facing the back of the carriage. I hate riding facing the back. It always makes me dizzy and I end up vomiting. Well at least I can not see verra well. I am bent over; the only view I have is my feet. I cannot straighten enough to even look out the back glass because my head hits the top of the carriage, which is cloth not wood. Strange, verra strange.

The man walks around the back of the carriage and climbs in and sits down on the other side of me. The lights don't seem to bother his eyes and he does not seem concerned facing back either. I do not see how we are going to move. There are no horses and no drivers. So here we sit. There is a wheel mounted in front of the man. I have not a clue what that does but he places his right hand on the wheel, like he thinks he will need to steady himself when the carriage moves. I have no such wheel in front of me. This is a custom made carriage right enough; I have never seen another one like it and doubt there is another one like it anywhere. This small man has very peculiar taste, I think to myself. Where are the seats for the other passengers, I wonder or is his niece the only other person to travel with him? And why, now that I think of it, does he think I need the services of a wet nurse? I am not a bairn that needs to suckle for food. I need a surgeon or a healer to help me or at the very least Angus could put my shoulder right.

The funny little man puts his hand on a knob on the wood that the wheel is mounted to and these sticks wipe across the outside of glass window. The sudden movement startles me and I jump and the back of my head hits the roof. I look up. I can see out of the window. The sticks removed the water. It is raining hard so the water comes back and I can not see again and the sticks come back from the other direction and push the water away again. I stare at the window. The two little sticks move back and forth and wipe the water away over and over again. I push my head as far forward as I can, smashing it against the glass and try and look up outside the window to see the poor lad on the top of the carriage that has that thankless task. I see no one. I then poke the cloth roof and I do not feel anyone kneeling up there. I cannot take my eyes of the sticks. Back and forth, back and forth the little sticks move. I never once see the man's hand. All so this man, Lambert, seated next to me, can see clearly out the window at where we have been. I click my tongue.

Friend Lambert then grabs the short branch with a knob on the top that sits in between us. In between our carriage seats, which now that I notice, are also verra strange. We each have our own seat. It is not a bench. I must say, as I wiggle my arse a little in an effort to straighten myself from my hunched position, they are quite comfortable. Verra soft and covered in a nice leather.

He turns to me and says "My name is Quentin Beauchamp by the way. My friends call me Lambert. My niece calls me Uncle Lamb. You may call me Lambert, my friend" and he holds out his hand to shake mine.

"James McTavish. I reply. You may call me Jamie," I state and add "my friend." and I shake his hand.

My friend Lambert pushes the stick forward and our carriage moves backwards. Toward the way the lights are. In the direction we are faced. Where there are no horses and no drivers and some poor sod on the roof is keeping the glass clear. I turn and stare at Lambert. Hard. I reach a finger out and poke him to make sure he is real.

Lambert turns and says "Yes? You wish to ask me something Jamie?"

"Are ya a fairy or a wizard then Lambert? Ya can tell me which ya are. I can keep a secret. I will na tell anyone." The man just laughs at me and tells me I am funny. That his niece is going to certainly like me and he stomps his foot and pushes the stick forward and the carriage roars and moves faster. He would turn the wheel and stomp the floor and move the stick every now and again. We would stop and start and turn left and turn right. Finally the path widens. And damned if there are not more carriages like Lambert's. Not a single horse pulling any of them. No one driving them. No one else had someone sitting on the roof keeping the window clear either. Lambert must be very wealthy indeed. My mouth opened and I just stared out the glass window. We enter a town. Lights are everywhere. I have never seen anything like it. It has dwellings and shops and more people than I have ever seen, except maybe Paris.

"Where are you headed Jamie?" Lambert asked after a couple of minutes of quiet.

"Home." I said. "Lallybroch".

"I have never heard of the town," my new friend says. "Though I only just arrived at Inverness a couple of weeks ago so I am not sure of all the small villages and such. Claire, that's my niece, she might know of it. She lived here since the war ended, for over a year now, and works at the hospital. She sees patients from all over the area. We'll ask her when we get home. Not to worry. We will see you safely back to Lallybroch, is it?"

"Yes, Lallybroch," I repeat. "It's not a town or a village. It is my family's home. My family's estate. This is Inverness?"

"Yes, Claire lives in Inverness. I am here visiting and doing some research." Lambert comments. "Oh, an old estate. I would love to see it. How old is it? I mean when was it built? Are you part of the original family? How lovely. Well, when we get back to the apartment, you can use the telephone to call them and let them know you are fine. So they don't worry. You'll stay and have supper and spend the night with us, unless you'd rather I drop you off at a hotel in town somewhere. I don't mean to presumptuous."

"I thank you kindly for the hospitality." I answer and breathe a sigh of relief. I am worn out and need someone to look at this shoulder. I hope this niece of his is as good as he thinks she is. "I will gladly come to your home, if it would be no problem for you or your niece to have me rest the night. Do you need to 'telephone' her and let her ken?"

My friend Lambert smiles, laughs and stops the horseless, driver less carriage and fingers something on the wood the wheel is mounted on and pulls a very tiny key from it. The roaring stops. Lambert opens his own carriage door and climbs out, shutting the door behind him. I sit and wait. There is a sudden knock on the window by my head. My heart jumps to my throat and I turn my head and see Lambert bending down motioning me to come. I must look confused enough that he opens the carriage door for me.

"Where are the footmen?" I ask. "Do you always open your own door?" and I start to unfold myself from the inside of the very small carriage. When I am finally standing, my good arm holding my bad one, I twist my back and my neck to work out all the kinks; 'snap and pop' my bones make as sounds as they unfold. I hope they have a larger carriage to take me home in. I don't think I can get back into this one.

Lambert laughs again, walks around to the front of the carriage and collects my sword and dirk. He hands them to me and walks toward a building. I lean over the glass and see the two sticks laying down in at the bottom of the glass. I never did see the poor lad stuck with that task. He must be soaked to the skin. I look up and let the rain wash over my face. I don't see a single star.

"Jamie, this way Jamie," Lambert says as he motions for me to come, holding a nearby door open. "We are on the third floor. Hope you don't mind stairs. It's a walk up. Flat 3B. I walk over and hold the door and allow Lambert in first and close the door behind me. I hear it latch. I follow my friend up two 'flights' of stairs and he stops in front of a door with a **3** and a **B** on it.

He has another verra tiny key and places it in the lock and as he opens the door he says "Claire, sweetheart, it's me, Uncle Lamb. Sorry I'm so late. You know how I loose track of the time. I have brought company home with me. I hope you are decent." He moves out of the way and allows me entrance.

This man is truly wealthy. This room is lavish...and I start to scan it, take it all in...when...

"We best move to the kitchen. Claire will not take kindly to our wetting the carpet. Come, follow me," and he again motions me with his hand. The "kitchen" is just a small

area and no fireplace. You can not cook without a fire. How can you have a kitchen and not cook. Lambert must be a wizard. Or this Claire is a witch, perhaps.

"Sit. Sit. You must be soaked. Take your shoes off and your coat. Let me get you a towel to dry yourself off with." Lambert says and disappears.

I am bent over, noticing the rather large puddle I am making on the floor as I am removing my second boot when I notice a pair of bare feet in front of my own, toes pointed at mine. I start to travel up the toes to a very bare pair of ankles. Their skin is the most beautiful pale white I have ever seen. Like opals... I am disappointed when my eyes come to a white dress that covers the rest of what I can only imagine are a very fine pair of calves. My eyes continue up the funny white dress with a piece of matching fabric for a belt, a mans coat collar, no bodice, no laces and rest on this face of … of … of an angel is the only word I can find. An angel with this amazing curly nest of brown hair that surrounds a face that has the same beautiful opal skin. And her eyes. Her eyes are like honey. Not not honey, amber. No not honey or amber, whiskey. That's it whiskey. I look into them and...

I shake my head to clear my mind...she is saying something. The angel is talking to me. She is talking to me and getting rather annoyed that I am not responding. She has folded her arms across that beautiful bosom and now she is tapping the floor with her foot impatiently.

"Excuse me," I start. "I did not hear what you asked or said. My mind was pleasantly diverted. Would you repeat yourself, please." And I look directly into her eyes and we lock for a moment. The angel starts to swoon, looses her balance as her knees give and has to place her hand on the table next to us to steady herself. I smile. Give her my best Jamie the Charming, usually reserved for a lass' mother; I hold nothing back for this woman. I like her. A lot. She's not the first one I've made swoon but I think I want her to be the last. I suddenly just really want to touch her.

"What?" my angel says to me suddenly confused.

I set my boots under the chair I am sitting on and stand up. That always bring even the tough ones to their knees. My angel is no different. She just about collapses and I, already anticipating this reaction, am there to catch her. She is in my arms. Right where I want her. She looks up at me and I look down at her and she starts to raise her head and turn so that I can kiss her. I have every intention of doing so and move my head lower and start to turn my head...when in walks friend Lambert and my angel jumps out of my arms and backs up until she is leaning against a half box and she can steady herself. Her face turns red and looks at the floor.

"I see you have found my friend, Niece. Claire, this is Jamie MacTavish. Jamie, this is my niece Claire Beauchamp." Lambert introduces us not realizing what he almost walked in on. "She's the nurse I was telling you all about, Jamie. I found him on the road, quite literally, near Craigh na Dun, Claire. He was walking in the middle of the road in the pouring rain. He's hurt his shoulder and I told him you could probably fix him up nicely." He turns and hands me a towel. "Claire can you help him with his coat and shirt and take a look at his shoulder while I get out of these wet clothes? I told him he could share supper and stay the night. He lives on some Estate called...what is the name again Jamie?" Lambert asks.

"Lallybroch," I say never taking my eyes off Claire.

"Yes, yes that's it. Lallybroch. Ever heard of it Claire?" He asks, and without waiting for an answer, he turns and leaves the room. "He needs to use the telephone to call his family and let them know he's alright. You'll show him where it is, please Claire." and a door closes.

"What's the old saying 'When one door closes, another opens'?" Claire asks and looks up into my eyes again. "Lamb says you are hurt. Want to show me?" She does not move towards me. She has a firm grip on whatever it is she is leaning against.


	2. Chapter 2 - Dreams Good and Bad

Friend Lambert is gone and my angel is gripping the box she is leaning on, her first two fingers of her left hand tapping away like a fiend. Things are not going the way I need them to. I need this healer look at my shoulder. I need her to fix it. I need to lessen the pain in my shoulder so I can focus my thoughts. Right now every time I move it there is horrible pain that almost brings me to my knees. I need a clear head to work out what has happened to me. I do not think this is a dream, this is real. Fairies? Maybe. What ever this is. I need this Claire to fix me. I need to focus so I can get her to focus and remove the pain. I look into her eyes and then down at my feet to think for a second. I see her eyes move down and watch my face.

"Uncle Lamb says your arm is hurt. May I see it, please? I won't touch you unless you are alright with that," the bonnie brown haired Sassenach says, looking at me with kindness and sympathy in her face. I start to take the coat off, but the pain of twisting my shoulder starts to make me dizzy, I close my eyes and wince in pain. Claire notices my discomfort and immediately comes to help. She steps behind me and takes my coat off gently. First from the good arm and then just slides it easily off the hurt one. She lays it on the table beside me.

She comes around front, looks me in the eye and says, "I'll have to take the vest and the shirt off. That means this belt must come off first, alright?" She never takes her eyes from mine. I stare at her. She undoes the buckle to the belt. My dirk, sheath and sporran are on the belt also so she removes it all and places them on top of my coat. She starts to unbutton my waistcoat. Her beautiful hands with those long slender fingers flying over the buttons. I place my hand over hers to stop her, she should na be undressing me. We are alone. It would na be proper, I do not want her reputation ruined. She looks up and says, "It's alright. I'm a nurse. I've helped many people off with their clothes. If you'd rather wait for Uncle Lamb, if his being in the room will make you more at ease, I can stop and wait for him." She looks at me and says this with a kind and gentle voice, like she is trying to sooth and reassure me that she is a very capable healer and will take prestigious care of me. I drop my hand to my lap and let her remove my waistcoat. She removes it with the same care she took with my coat. This healer, this Claire, is verra kind and verra gentle despite that she is English.

She stands back and looks at my shirt, like she's never seen one before. She says "You're bleeding. There is a fair amount of blood on your shirt and there is a hole right here in the shoulder." She pokes her finger in the bloodied hole in my shirt and lifts it so I can see she is telling the truth. I can see this concerns her. She reaches up to my neck and works at the knot at my throat. Because the stock fabric is wet the knot is hard to undo but the healer is verra capable and manages to untie it and drops it in the pile of my belongings as well. She then starts to unbutton my shirt. Once again her long, dexterous fingers fly down the front of my shirt and quickly it is unbuttoned. I take the breath I did not realize I had been holding all the while she was working on the buttons, while she was touching me. She then unbuttons each cuff and steps back.

"I will be as gentle as I can, but I need to get the shirt off, so this might hurt a bit, alright?" and she looks right at me when she says it. "It might be easier for me, if you sit back down for this part.

And so I sit.

"Ready?" she asks.

I nod my head.

She first pulls the hem of my shirt free from under my kilt, then takes the shirt sleeve of the good arm and pulls my arm free. I smile and laugh slightly as her fingers dance across my stomach because it tickles. She smiles and blushes. She is verra bonnie indeed, especially when she smiles. It warms me right to my core.

"Right. Take a deep breath and here we go." She gathers the freed shirt in a sloppy roll and lifts the roll over my head. I bend my head to my chest to help and then sit up straight again when my head and neck are free. For some reason it is important to me to sit up straight when she is near, not to slouch or to appear uncouth. I am preening like a peacock in an attempt to gain the attentions of the peahen he wants to mate with. The healer does not seem to notice or perhaps she is not attracted to me, does not chose me. I take a breath. No, she is attracted, she wants me. I can smell it on her. And for some reason that warms me to the core again. It makes me smile. The healer takes the roll in one hand and the sleeve in the other and eases the rest of the shirt off. She plops it on the table with the rest of my wet clothes and steps back to look.

Concern shows immediately on her face. Something is wrong. She takes a finger and presses and …

"Ooch," I say and give her a look that accentuates the discomfort her poking leaves.

"Well, and rightly so, I should say. You have dislocated your shoulder, that's for certain. I can clearly see that. But I think you've been shot. Did you know you've a bullet hole in your Trapezius muscle as well? That certainly explains the shirt." and she places her hand on my good shoulder and lowers her head until it's right in front of me and looks into my eyes to watch if my answer is truthful.

I shake my head no. "No, no I did not ken I had been shot. I just ken my shoulder hurts and I can'na move it without pain," I answer with partial honesty. I did think someone had shot me, I just did not ken it for certain.

She pushes on the wound, again, and I wince and suck air in through my gritted teeth. "It looks like this is the exit, then the entrance is in the back. It's clean, straight through the muscle. I need to get some supplies, to irrigate the wound and then bandage it. Lets put some ice on that shoulder to keep the muscles from swelling too much until I can get the shoulder back in place." She opens a tall box and takes out a silver dish. She lays a towel on the table beside me and pull a handle on the dish, that makes a crunching noise and she then flips it over onto the towel. She takes the silver dish and places it on the table. I take my finger and poke one of the small whites cubes on the towel. It is cold to the touch. I pick one up and you can see light through it, almost like cold glass.

I look up at Claire and ask, "Is it glass? Cold glass?"

"It's ice, silly. You act like you've never seen an ice cube before," and she places a piece in her mouth and hands me a piece to do the same.

I place it in my mouth and smile. I like this ice. It is cool in my mouth and quickly becomes water and I swallow. Like the frozen water on the horse's water troughs in winter only thicker and in cubes. I have never tasted the frozen water from the troughs before. I pick up another piece and place it in my mouth. It is cool in my mouth like snow in the winter. That I have eaten.

She rolls the towel up, with the ice in it, and places it on my shoulder. "Hold the ice on your shoulder. I will be right back." She said and turns to walk away but after a few steps she turns back and adds, "Are you alright? Is there anything you want to tell me? I won't say anything to the authorities if you don't want me to."

I just lower my head and look at my feet. What can I tell her? The truth? She'd think I was daft. Loon. Maybe I am. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe I am passed out from drink in a tavern with Murtagh somewhere. This Sassenach looks so much like Yvette, my bonnie lass. Maybe that's what this is all about. This is penance for what I have done. I'm dream'n about the lass I killed; the prostitute, the wee wild thing that she was. Claire definitely reminds me of Yvette; they are similar, physically. They would be about the same height, though Claire is slightly taller. Their body shapes would be similar as well though Claire has a much better arse, from what I can see. Their eyes are exactly alike. Yvette's eyes are a brown, like my belt and Claire's are the color of a fine whiskey. Their hair is so close, I can scarcely tell the difference; both have brown hair. Yvette's was a dark brown almost black, long and straight, halfway down her back where as Claire has more color, like a burn running quickly over the rocks, and curls all about her face but is only to her shoulders. I did'na mean to kill Yvette; she said she was carrying my bairn, why would I shoot her? I ken my father would have never have approved of her but I would have married her just the same. I was aiming at Mathieu, that mercenary dolt that was grabbing at her, forcing Yvette to sit on his lap. The ugly little man, Raymond, that pulled me away from Yvette's limp body, lying on prostrate on the floor, said it was not my fault. That it was not my pistol, not my bullet that killed her. He insisted that I needed to be away from the tavern before the Gendarme arrived. They would arrest me he said and pushed me out the back door into the alley and I ran, coward that I am. I had run away and left Yvette and the unborn child dead on the floor. Ian had prevented me from going back. We had gotten on our horses and ridden away in the night. Like thieves.

Claire pulls me from my thoughts by handing me a glass when she returns. I put it to my nose. Whiskey. Good whiskey at that. I take a sip. Glenmorangie the label on the bottle says. I can easily read the label from where I sit. She's got a decent bottle of Scotch whiskey. I look up and raise my glass to her in thanks, swallow the whole shot at once and hold my glass out for her to refill. She laughs. A sweet, light giggle. She smiles and pours me another. Almost to the rim.

"No more until after supper. Agreed?" and she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a swallow herself. "Now, let's get to work. I might require some help setting that shoulder, someone to hold you steady; I am going to have to pull and push to get it back in. The muscle is already swelling. I might need to go across the hall and ask one of my neighbors to help. Would that be alright? Before I do that I want to take a closer look at the gun shot." And before I can stop her, she has walked around behind me. She makes no noise. No gasp, no cough, no "Oh, my". Then she does something no one has done before, she lays her hand gently on my back and begins to trace the lashes, each one, with her finger, drawing them for me on my back. "They are laid with such hate. Such fury." she whispers and sighs, not for her but for me. "It is a beautiful, strong back, Jamie. The wounds are healing well, if that is any help for you to hear." She places the palm of her hand on my good shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"'Tis nothing. Do'na worry for me over them. Laid down by the devil himself for purely evil intentions," I tell her and grab the bottle off the table and take two good swigs and set it back down.

She carefully cleans the wound, trying to warn me if she expects it to hurt me in any way. My mind is elsewhere. I do'na even notice. I have worked up a light sweat by the time she has finished and is bandaging it.

"You are a verra fine healer, Claire. You have a verra gentle touch and manner." I said in totally honesty. "I like that you told me what you were going to do and what to expect. I was nervous with ya and my shoulder is verra painful but you made it simple. I thank ya."

She blushed at what I said and looked down at her feet. The she stands straight and tall, looks me in the eye and thanks me for the complement. What a bonnie, strong lass she is. I like her so much, already. I trust her, already.

Claire's Uncle Lambert comes around the corner and enters the kitchen. I quickly look around for something to put on. I mean no disrespect to him to be found in such a state of undress in front of his niece, unchaperoned. I grab the large cloth that Claire has been tearing into strips and wrap it around my shoulders. I winced in pain again at having to move my shoulder.

Claire looks at me and barks, "Stop that. What are you doing? Give that sheet back to me before you hurt your shoulder again." She makes a grab for it and gets a corner of it and starts to pull it away from me, toward her.

"Do'na take that," I say back to Claire. "I will no disrespect your uncle. Bad enough you've seen me without my shirt but you be'n a healer and all..." I kept hold of the half already around me and, using a twisting motion with my body, almost jerk the corner free from her hands.

Claire almost falls forward but catches herself, and with both arms pulls the sheet back like a shinty stick, crying, "I said, Give." Tug. "That." Tug. "Back." Tug. She almost makes me fall out of the chair.

The wee hen is stronger than she looks. Games she wants, aye? Games she'll get, and lose. I settle myself back on the chair and quickly gather my end of the cloth in my hand by my shoulder. In one swift movement I extend my arm out, which pulls the sheet then turn my body in my chair so I now face Claire and that movement makes her fall forward, right into my lap. I let go of the cloth and catch her with my good arm and pull her into my chest to keep her from falling over my lap and onto the floor.

"Ooh," she says when she looks up into my face. I just smile down at her with my 'Jamie the Charmer' smile. This lass is fun. She is no easy like the others. She has game.

"Well Mr. MacTavish," she said brandishing her own dazzling smile. " Technically neither of us won. Neither of us is in position of the sheet." and she quickly scrambles from my arms, picks the sheet up off the floor and waves it at me.

"Possession declares the winner, I do believe. You lose, kind sir." and she bowed to me.

I lunged and grab the cloth. She has not expected that. I am now in full possession of the cloth and say "Possession. Winner." And with a flourish I have re-covered my back, shoulders and chest.

Claire looks at me in awe. And smiles.

My shoulder is killing me from the banter, but my heart was euphoric. This Sassenach is growing on me.

Lambert is leaning against the back of the couch watching and laughs.

"Alright Mr. Winner. Time to put that shoulder back. Let's see," and Claire looks around the room. "Ah," she says and walks to a corner of the room. Mr. MacTavish, I need you to come sit here on the floor in the corner. Your back needs to be against this wall and your good shoulder against the one and she points to the other wall." and I pat them with my hand.

I look at the healer like she is daft. She wants me to sit on the floor so she can fix my shoulder?

"Mr. MacTavish, please come sit here," and again she pats the wall. "You need to trust that I know what I am doing." She turns to her Uncle and says, "Do be a peach Uncle Lamb and assure Mr. MacTavish that I do know what I am doing and I am only trying to help. I need to get his shoulder back in place before it swells and then he will be in a pickle because I won't be able to help him. He will have to go to the hospital."

I sit exactly where she says and then she hands me two white pills and a tells me to swallow them and follows with a glass of water for me to drink.

"What are they?" I ask as I hold one up for a better look.

"Aspirin, to help with the pain and reduce the swelling," Claire answers.

"Water? No whiskey?" I ask.

"You my have two swallows of whiskey after you take the aspirin I just gave you. You need to take the pills with water. The reward of the whiskey comes after you take your medicine, my young man." She says and winks at me.

"I am no Laddie, Healer," I reply brusquely with my manhood in question. "I have been a man since fourteen when my Uncle Dougal took me on my first raid for highland cattle. I am two and twenty now, woman," and I glared at her. Why does it bother me that she not see me as a grown man I ask myself?

The healer unties the belt to her dress, leaving the front of her dress to fall open if she moved. I averted my eyes and looked down at the floor and then to Friend Lambert when he spoke.

"Is there anything I can do to help Claire?" Friend Lambert asked.

"No, no, I think I can manage. If not I will have to go across the hall and see if Johnny can come over and help."

My eyes opened wide. The healer is taking her dress off and the old man wanted her to take me? Friend Lambert was going to watch and if I can not satisfy her, she is going to get another man? And her Uncle is good with this? I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I keep my vision on the floor and look over to where the movement was. I see the dress draped over the back of the chair. Then there is Claire sitting on the floor beside me. Naked on the floor next to me. I kept my eyes focused on my knees. Straight ahead and down. Claire placed her bare feet up against my hip and reached over and grabbes my hurt arm. She tells me to bend my arm at the elbow to make a 90 degree angle. She then swings my arm until it is almost against the wall I am leaning against. The healer has one hand under my upper arm just before my bent elbow. Her other hand is on the lower part of my arm, half way between the elbow and my wrist.

"Ok Jamie, this is going to hurt. I am going to pull your upper arm toward me to pull the ball of the shoulder back and in alignment with the shoulder socket. If I do this correctly the ball should slip back into place when I pull it back far enough. I am not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt worse than it already does. But when I line it up, it should 'Pop' back into place and it will feel much better, right away." The healer says.

I am confused. Why does she need to be naked to fix my shoulder? My eye are fixed to the floor but want badly to look at Claire.

"Uncle Lamb, can you come take the ice from Jamie's shoulder, I need to be able to see where the shoulder ball is to correct for alignment. Thank you very much. Just put it in the sink." she says and then moves one foot up along my rib cage. "Ready? Jamie?"

I nod my head.

Claire pulls my arm toward her while pushing against me with her legs. Her legs are holding me against the wall while her body pulls my arm toward her. I can feel the arm moving with her as she pulls. I smother the painful moan I want to utter and close my eye against the pain.

"Relax Jamie. Don't tense your muscles. You're fighting me. Relax. Think of something calming. Do you have a girl Jamie? Think of your girl. That's it, that's it. Your not fighting me. Remember to breathe. Good. Relax. Don't tense. Good. Good. Almost there. Almost. Almost." Her voice sounded strained and tired.

And then there was a 'Pop'. And Claire slowly, gently releases my arm and there is very little pain. It still hurts, mind you, but the pain is more of an ache now. I grabbed my bad arm with my good hand and turn to look at my healer. She is flat on her back on the kitchen floor, her knees bent and feet still up against my hip. And she is not naked. She is wearing a man's breeks and shirt.

"It does na hurt any more, Claire." I said with relief, smile and give her knee a squeeze. I immediately realize that I have touched Claire inappropriately and remove my hand like her knee is on fire. I can feel my face flush with embarrassment.

She raised herself up on her elbow and smiled back at me in relief. "Well, don't get excited. You will not be able to use it for about a week. I will have to wrap it, and strap it to your body so it can heal properly. I need to check it and make sure nothing is torn or damaged. I also want to check the gunshot bandage as well. Let me just lay here a moment and catch my breath. I had forgotten what hard work it is to re-set a shoulder," and she collapses back to the floor.

Friend Lambert hands me a small glass of whiskey which I raise to Claire and say "Salute".

Claire looks at me and smiles. She the rolls her head to look at Friend Lambert and says, "Uncle Lamb, would you please run across the hall and ask Johnny if we can borrow some clothes for Jamie here. Pajamas and something for him to wear over the next day or two until I can get these clothes that he came in cleaned. We can not take him back to his family damaged and filthy. What would they think of us?"

"Right, Claire. I will go right now." He turned and left the room.

I heard Friend Lambert open the door, speak to someone and then the door close behind him. I turned to Claire and touched her leg with my finger of the hand that holds the now empty glass of scotch. Claire moves the arm that was draped over her eye up to her forehead and looked into my eyes. It was like a bolt of electricity running from her to me and then back to her and then back to me. I could see in her face she felt it to. Neither of us saying anything, just staring into each others eyes...

"Claire, what in the world are you doing lying on the floor in your pajamas? I thought I had been invited to dinner tonight. Do I have the wrong night?"

I turn and look up right into the face of Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall.


	3. Chapter 3 - Randall

When I find I am in an unexpected situation or suddenly taken by surprise, I find my natural instincts take over. I immediately drop the glass, vault to my feet using my newly repaired arm as leverage and lunge to the table for my dirk and sword, roaring my adversaries name as I move "RANDALL!". I reach the table and grab my dirk and turn to meet my foe only to see that with a look of sheer terror on his face, he is backing quickly away from me as fast as his legs will carry him right into the back of the settee. He hits the back of the piece of furniture so quickly that he flips over the back of it, sending his legs in the air still moving like he is running. The next thing I hear is a thud as his body hits the floor on the other side. I quickly look back to make sure Claire is unscathed. I can see she is terrified, poor wee thing. Randall has taken us both by surprise.

"Do'na worry Claire, I will protect ya." I state with prowess, turn and in two steps I leap over the back of the settee and am standing over Randall, with my dirt pointed at his throat, Randall looking, with fear in his eyes, scared beyond words. "Move one finger and I will kill you where you lie." I tell him. I then stop myself, remove my weapon from his throat and stand straight though I still straddle his prone body. This is not Black Jack Randall. I sniff the air. No. This man is scared. Pissed himself in his breeks he has. Looks like Jonathon Randall but is not. The deep creases in his cheeks are not there, like Black Jack has. This man's hair is a much lighter brown. Black Jack's is almost black in color. The eyes are the same color but this man's eyes have none of the evil and darkness that hides in Black Jacks eyes...

"Jamie, stop!" I hear Claire pleading. "Stop Jamie!"

I place my bare foot on this man's chest and put enough weight on it he will not go anywhere, turn and look at Claire. She is struggling to her feet.

"Please, Jamie. Do not hurt Frank. Frank is a friend of mine. A Friend. Please, Please, put your weapon down. Don't hurt him." She says as she looks at me. I see the pleading in her eyes. Not love, but friendship is there. The it dawns on me, Claire has a glass face. I ken what she is thinking just by the look on her face. I smile at the thought.

"This is not funny James MacTavish. Not funny at all." she growls at me as she reaches the back of the settee. Please remove your foot from Frank's chest and help him up." She turns to Frank all sweetness and kindness and full of apologies and says, "Gee Frank. I am so sorry. Are you alright? Sit down. Let me get you a drink and I'll explain everything, I promise" and she walks back into the kitchen and pours him a whiskey, putting two ice cubes in his, walks back and hands it to him.

I look at Claire with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Oh alright, just one," she says and returns with what is quickly becoming an empty bottle of whiskey and two more glasses. She pour one for me and her.

"Jamie, this is Frank Randall. He is a work associate of my Uncle Lambs. He's a historian...and a friend of mine as well. Frank, this is James MacTavish. Uncle Lamb picked him up on the road coming back from Fort Williams today. Lamb said Jamie was walking down the middle of the road in the dark, in the rain. Jamie says he's trying to get home; he lives in Lallybroch. Ever heard of it?"

Neither man says anything. They both just look each other over from head to toe and then back. Sizing each other up like two boxers before a match. Frank finally breaks the staring contest and takes a long drink from his glass. He then looks Jamie over one more time, stands up, hands me his glass and says he needs to use the loo. He then turns and walks way.

I sniff. I do not ken if he needs a 'loo' to use but he has certainly pissed himself and maybe more. That makes me smile again. I finish my whiskey in one swallow and turn to look at Claire, who I find, is staring intently at me.

"Would you like to tell me what the hell that was all about, Mr. MacTavish?" Claire asks, swirling her whiskey in her glass and not drinking it.

"Ouch" I say out loud not meaning to. I recognize that tone of voice. I did something wrong and I am about to get a tongue lashing, the likes my sister Jenny has never given me, and she has given me plenty. I reach out and take Claire's glass of whiskey, swallow it in one gulp and hand the glass back to her.

"No. No Claire, I do'na think I would like to tell you what that was all about, but I think you are not going to let me off with that, are ya?" I looked as her sheepishly through my lashes as I speak.

"Claire? Claire, would you come here please?" Frank interrupts calling from down the hall.

Claire turns, looks at me and says, "I want an explanation about what just happened. I am not angry, but I am very concerned. You knew who Frank was. You called him by name. You were threatening to injure him in order to protect me. That's what you were doing, right?" She stops talking and is looking at me for a reply.

Jamie reads her face and sighs. She is telling me the truth. She is not angry, but very concerned.

"Claire. I really need you." Frank calls out again.

Claire looks at me. Looks me hard in the face and places her hand gently on my good shoulder. "Jamie, are you ok? I need to see what Frank needs, but I will be right back, alright?" She removes her hand, turns and walks away, down the hall saying, "I'm coming Frank."

I turn from Jamie and walk down the hall and to find Frank hiding behind the bathroom door with only his head sticking out ready to pull back inside and close the door if I had been Jamie, I'm quite sure. I stop in front of the door with my hands on my hips. "What Frank? What do you need my help with?" He opens the door and I can see he has taken his trousers off.

"I need to borrow a clean pair of trousers and underwear from Lambert. Your little friend in there scared the shit out of me, quite literally, I'm afraid. I would like to take a shower and to wash up. I will rinse my pants off in here as well, if you don't mind. Would you please get me a towel and a wash cloth?"

"Sure, fine. But you are not staying the night. Look, you and I both know you were never invited for dinner tonight. I don't want to hear whatever reason you've made up to be here. You are going back to your apartment tonight, agreed? And before you say anything, Jamie has dibs on the 2nd bed in Uncle Lambs room. I am getting you a bag to put your soiled clothes in. You can wash them when you get back to your place."

I turn to walk away, stop and turn back. "He knew you didn't he Frank? Jamie. For a second it looked like you recognized Jamie too. Do you, Frank? Do you know James MacTavish?" I ask with an eyebrow raised.

Frank nods his head and says, "I think so." Look, let me shower and get dressed. We'll talk before I leave. Alright?"

I go back to the kitchen and there is Jamie sitting at the kitchen table, hold his bad arm to his side with his good arm. He looks up. He's face tells me how much pain he is in.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ." I exclaim. "You re-injured it, haven't you? When you got up from the floor in such a hurry, you used that arm."

He confirms my theory with a single nod of his head.

I walk over and stand in front of him. He looks up at me with those gorgeous blue eye and my knees start to cave on me again. I grab the table and look at the ceiling, the floor, the sink anywhere but his face. Stop it Claire Beauchamp, stop it right now. Quit mooning over him like he's the captain of the cricket team and you are 16. The man is in pain and needs your help. I manage to find his shoulder while avoiding eye contact with him. I feel his shoulder and surrounding muscles. Finally, I have gained enough control back to look him in the face and I start to explain, "The joint is still in the right place; your movement did not knock it back out. I think it is best not to move it in order to determine any further damage, at least for tonight. You are clearly in pain and I need to wrap this arm to give it support and keep it from moving in the night. That will help with some of the discomfort. I would also like to give you something a little stronger for the pain but it will make you sleepy. I can let you sleep while I make supper. You look completely done in, a rest might not be a bad idea anyway. Are we in agreement?" I ask.

I am right. He is hurting. In fact so badly he does not even answer me, he simply nods his head.

"Jamie. Jamie look at me." I said softly.

Jamie complies and looks up.

"I am not mad at you. Honest. I am just confused as to why you thought you needed to protect me so vehemently from Frank. Can you tell me about it?" I ask with concern.

Jamie just looked up at me, tired and sad.

I place my hand on his cheek and say, "Never mind. Let me get you something a little stronger for the pain and then wrap that shoulder up. You can rest on the sofa while I make dinner. I thing you will feel better with some food in you. You must be hungry, are you?"

Jamie nodded his head. He could eat a whole sheep. Maybe even a cow. Maybe a cow and a sheep. I hope she can cook, he wished, though without a fire he did'na see how and he saw no fireplace.

The sheet that Jamie and I had fought over earlier, I am tearing into strips when Uncle Lamb comes back. He has a small pile of clothes. "Johnny said we can keep these. He does not fit into them anymore. Hopefully some of it will work for Jamie," Uncle Lamb says as he sets them down on the table. He looks at Jamie, then looks me and says, "Claire, Jamie does not look very well. What happened? Where is Frank? Did he leave? I needed to go over some of my research with him."

"Damn," I say. "Sorry. Frank is in the bathroom cleaning up. He had an accident," and I shoot Jamie a look. He looks up at me and smiles. He knows what he did to Frank. How does he know that? "Can you take him this brown bag and get him a towel and wash cloth and take them to him? I am going to finish wrapping our dear Jamie here like he's a mummy and then I will start dinner. Bangers and mash ok? I got some lovely tomatoes and thought I'd slice them up as a salad. Oh and a loaf of french bread and brie cheese." I said and went back to tearing the sheet into strips. "Oh Lamb, did you invite Frank to dinner tonight?"

"Hum," Uncle Lambert say and stops. "Why, yes, I believe I did. Do we have enough?"

"Then best tell him he can stay for dinner. He will need to borrow a pair of boxers and trousers from you. You are still the same size, yes?"

Lambert nods and walks out of the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall.

I look down and find that I have somehow managed to take hold of Jamie's hand during my conversation with Lamb. I turn and look down into those beautiful blue eyes and sigh. A girl could get lost in them. I wonder if he is married or has a girlfriend. I wouldn't mind if he ate crackers in my bed, after we were married that is. Abstinence until marriage, that has been my motto. And at 27, it looks like I will die a old maid, though I have had offers. I just have not found Mr. Right, until now, I think. It makes me very jealous to think of Jamie even kissing another girl and I frown at the thought. I realize I have drifted off, shake my head and focus.

I notice that Jamie is looking at me with his head tilted to the side like he is trying to decide something.

I shake my head again, to clear my daydream and finish tearing the sheet into the strips I need and roll the strips up to make them easier to use. I kneel in front of Jamie and he instinctively knows to open his legs so I can get in close. I start by laying the start of the sheet strip across his stomach and then gently lay his injured arm on top of it.

"Hold your arm there, please Jamie. Loosely, not tight. Perfect." I instruct.

I take the roll of the sheet strip and start wrapping it around his torso under his good arm, around his back and then back around the front. In order to reach around his body to pass the roll from my right hand to my left I have to flatten myself into his chest. The first pass, I notice his scent, heather and wool. I close my eyes and breathe the essence of Jamie in and sigh. By the fourth pass I am smelling heather and wool and horses and sweat. It smells like heaven to me. When the roll passes from right to left and then is back in the front, I cut the remainder of the roll off . I take the end, make a snip with the scissors and the tear the one strip in half lengthwise once around his body and use that to secure the bandage in the front with a knot. I explain to Jamie that he really should not move it for 24 – 48 hours if at all possible. He needed to sleep with it wrapped tonight and I would check it tomorrow.

When I am done I look up and into those blue eyes that are now a dark blue like the oceans deep. I know I want to kiss him, badly. To feel his lips on mine. I see his eyes flicker like he is thinking the same thing. I try and help him decide by placing my hands on his thighs, closing my eyes, tilting my head and leaning in while whispering "yes, please, Jamie."

And then I'm not sure. I think I feel his lips barely touch mine and then they are gone. A kiss over so fast that maybe I just imagined it. I open my eyes, unsure that the kiss even happened and sad that if there was a kiss that it is over so quickly, I have no memory to repeat in my dreams. I see Jamie is looking into my eyes now that I have opened them...deep into my soul as he turns his head to one side and then back to the other, like he is trying for better view into my depths. I reach up and trace my fingers over my lips, like I am trying to feel for the memory of the kiss, like fingers dancing across braille to read what is written. I feel nothing. I look down at the kitchen floor. I must have imagined it. He does have a girlfriend and does not wish to kiss me. I use my hands on his knees to lift myself up and turn my back to him quickly. I can not stop the single tear that falls from my eye from my disappointment, and I do not want him to see it.

"Bangers and Mash" Claire calls it. Looks like Sausage and some white fluffy stuff. Tomatoes, does the woman not ken they are poisonous? And bread and cheese, french cheese but cheese. Sausage is good. I like sausage. We would cook them over a fire when we were living rough on the road. Mash. Claire says it's a boiled potato with milk and butter. I have only had a potato a hand full of times in my life but I liked them. Never cooked in water though. We just shove them into the fire and cook them whole; roasted Claire calls that. Tomatoes. I try and tell Claire they are poisonous and she just laughs at me. She says that mushrooms are the poisonous ones, that I am confused. Bread and Cheese, well you'd have to be daft not to like them, even if the cheese is a smelly french one.

I watch as she flutters about the kitchen preparing dinner like a mam bird fluttering to protect a hidden nest. I keep an eye on Claire to see if she is a witch and where the fire to cook with is going to appear. She turns one of 5 knobs on a box in the middle of the kitchen and a small flame appears when she holds a 'match' to it. I get up to look and Claire pushes me back down in the chair. Tells me to stay out of her way while she is cooking. She puts a pot of water on to boil for the potatoes she tells me. She took a pot to the 'sink' and turned a handle and water came running out of a 'spout'. She has a tiny stream in her kitchen. This kitchen is full of magic. Maybe she is a witch. She filled the pot up with the water and puts it on of the wee fire. She gets a 'frying pan' and she puts on another little flame she 'lights' by turning another of the knobs and using another 'match'. I reach for the box of matches and take one out and rub it against the side of the box like Claire did and nothing happens. She must be a witch and I nod my head to myself. In this 'frying pan', she pours perfectly good ale in it then places the sausage in that to cook. She lets me have the rest of the ale she does not need. I like being the 'kitchen's helper'. Claire asks me if I want to slice the tomatoes and I furiously shake my head 'No' and reminder her she should not eat them as they are poisonous and she will die. She, ignores my warning and slices them anyway and places them on a plate. Twice, one from each tomato, she eats one of the slices. The first time, she places it her mouth, chews, then makes a face and grabs her throat and starts to choke. I immediately leap up grab her with one arm and cry for Friend Lambert. Frank shows up as well. I turn back around and Claire is laughing at me.

"Just kidding Jamie. I'm fine honestly. Just a joke. And laughs some more. Lambert and Frank both smile and walk back to the 'living room'.

I glare at her in anger but I cannot stay mad at her long.

She turns another knob and pulls the handle and a door opens. She 'lights more fire with another 'match', places the bread on a shelf inside and then closes the door. When Claire 'blew' the fire out on the 'match' she set it on a dish by the sink with the others. I reached up and grabbed the dish when Claire is not looking and compare her matches to mine. Hers look burnt and mine doesn't. I can make no sense of the wee sticks. This is a verra cleaver witch.

I 'clear' the table which is basically removing everything off the top of it. It is mostly things Claire used to mend my scratches. I put them back in the basket and set in on the table in the hall. Claire has put a 'table cloth' down and 'napkins' and is placing 'silverware and dishes' down for us to eat with. I think this eating is starting to look complicated.

"Alright men, go wash up. Supper is in ten minutes. I ken what 'wash up' is and follow Randall and Lambert to the front door only they turn down the hall. Maybe I don't ken 'wash up' then. I turn and they go into the 'loo' and I hear running water. There is a small stream in there too? I look in the door and see Randall and Lambert bent over something. I wait and watch. Finally Randall steps away and his hands are wet. He takes a small towel from the wall and dries his hands and steps past me and back into the hallway. He hands me the wet towel and turns and walks back toward the 'living room' and the 'kitchen' and Claire! I throw the towel at Lambert and run the 6 steps down the hall, turn into the living room to see Randall sitting on the settee. I stop as Randall looks up with fresh fear in his eyes. He drops his hands by his side and tenses his body like he is ready to run again.

"Claire!" He says quietly but urgently without moving a hair. "Claire, I think I need you. Now, if you would be so kind as to come here. Please!"

Claire appears in the arch that separates the kitchen and the living room. "Yes Frank?" What do you need?" she says with impatiences. "I am in the middle of mashing the potatoes."

"Your extremely large and very intimidating new boyfriend," nodding his head at me, "looks like he wants to eat me. I am a little fearful for my life right at this particular minute. Unless Lambert wants to lend me another pair of trousers, you'd better call him off, Claire."

"Jamie." Claire speaks my name. I look up. She is smiling at me. "Please leave Frank alone. He is harmless. If you have finished washing up, come help me mash the potatoes, please," and she turns and walks back into the kitchen. I turn, smile at Randall and wink. Now, my sister Jenny says I can'na wink. Winking is closing just one eye she says. When I wink both my eyes close. Jenny says that is blinking. So when I say I winked at Randall, I guess what I really did is blink at him. Randall, he did'na like it, not one little bit. And I continued to the kitchen to help my wee kitchen witch. I am beginning to like auld Frank Randall. He is fun to play with. And Claire, Claire could care less about him. Good.

I like Claire's 'Bangers and Mash'. I skip the tomatoes but notice not even Randall get sick from eating them. After everyone has eaten their fill, Claire lets me finish what is left. I look up and all three of them are staring at me as I clean my plate with the last piece of bread, using it to mop all the juices up. I pop the last piece of bread in my mouth and sit back and look at Claire.

"That was delicious, Claire. You are an excellent cook and all without a fireplace. Magic indeed. A healer and a cook. Perhaps a wee white witch as well?" I ask and raise my eyebrow at her. "Can you sew also?" I ask. It is best to ken as much about your wife before you marry her is what my Godfather Murtagh used to tell me.

Randall scoffs. "Where did you say you found this chap, Lambert?" Frank questions, nodding his head at Jamie. "On the road back from Fort Williams? Where exactly?"

"Well, just look at the time. Time for you to leave Frank. Time for me to go to bed. I have to work half a day tomorrow." Claire announces. "And Jamie needs his rest. Jamie and I cooked, Lamb, you get to do the dishes. If Frank wants to stay to help with that he can, but he is out the door after that. At least you don't have to worry about the leftovers." and she smiles and gets up from the table.

"Come with me Jamie, lets see if we can get you situated." and Claire turns and walks out the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall, grabbing her healers basket as she passes the table.

I go through the clothes that Johnny gave Uncle Lamb there is a pair of pajamas. Bottoms and top. I take the PJ's and Jamie, by the hand and lead him across the hall to the bathroom. I leave the door open. I find Jamie a new toothbrush and the tooth powder. He looks at them like he has never seen them before. I get mine out and show him how to use it. The look on his face is soooo cute. I then wet the new toothbrush and add the powder and hand it to him. He acts like he has never brushed his teeth before.

"Oh," I say. "You are right handed. Of course you can't brush your teeth." I sit him on the toilet and I proceed to brush them for him. He makes the cutest "God this tastes terrible face" I have ever seen but lets me finish before he spits. He must spit a hundred times. I give him a glass of water to rinse with. Now, the awkward part. Pajamas. I show him the pants. I explain that I will help him get them on and then he can take the kilt off. He nods. I kneel down and then look up to see if he is ready. My head is inches away from what I will say I think is a friendly salute. Maybe the man is interested after all. I am quite sure my face turned lipstick red. He places his hand on my shoulder and he manages one leg at a time to step into the bottoms. I get my feet under me in a crouch and then lift the bottoms as I stand up. The side of my face running up his right leg, and yes, I am definitely being saluted, and I pull the bottoms up under his kilt and let them rest on his hips. I am standing by this time and turn and look him in the eyes. There is a shadow over them, a darkness, maybe it was me seeing what I so want to see, that he wants me as much as I want him. It is just a flicker, and then it is gone. No kiss. I sigh, look down and back out the door. I look up into his face again. Nothing, I can read nothing.

I close the door behind me, so Jamie has privacy removing his kilt, and cross the hall to check that the second bed in Uncle Lambs room has clean sheets and a pillow. I place the rest of the clothes Johnny gave Jamie in the third drawer of the dresser. I set a blanket and clean towel and wash cloth on the dresser and a second pillow on the bed and sigh. I turn and look up. There is Jamie standing in the doorway with his kilt in his hands. I reach out and take it from him.

"I will take your clothes to be cleaned and pressed tomorrow. Johnny has given you some clothes to wear in the interim. Third drawer," and I point to the chest. "If you need anything in the night, I am the door at the end of the hall. Would you like something for the pain, before I go to sleep?" I ask.

I look up into his face and see a tear run down his face. I reach up, place my hand on his cheek and wipe it away with my thumb.

Do you want to talk?" I ask softly. "I'm a pretty good listener."

He shakes his head 'No'.

"Are you sure?" I ask in a whisper and raise an eyebrow.

He sits on the bed, with his head lowered.

I set the kilt on bed. I put my index finger under his chin and lift his face to look into mine. Such sadness I see in his face. His heart is breaking and he is letting me see it. I step forward and cradle his head in my bosom and I hear him quietly start to cry. For several minutes I hold him this way. Running my fingers through his hair. No words are spoken. No words are needed. When Jamie is spent, he pulls his head away and looks up into my face and says "Thank you."

"No need." I reply. "Anytime you need to talk..." and I lean over and pick up the kilt and move toward the door. Just before I leave I turn to Jamie and say, "I am here for you. To help you To heal your wounds. All of them. When I am near, do not be afraid. I will keep you safe."

"And when you are not near? What then?" He asks tentatively.

"Then remember, that you are a Scot in Inverness, a small city full of uniqueness and diversity. You are not British, in a town full of them but Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, who gives a damn. Live life I say, go out and have some fun. When you get hurt, because I think you will get into a few bar fights along the way, you know where I live and where I work. Find me and I will tend your scratches." and I leave to change for bed.


	4. Chapter 4 - Divine Intervention

A special thanks to William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._

After Claire leaves, closing the door behind her, I have a moment to think. This is the first I have been alone with my thoughts since I arrived. Where am I? I ken I am in Inverness. Lambert has told me that. My Inverness? The Inverness I ken, I grew up with? Maybe. I will have to wait for first light to see. All evidence points to no. None of what I have seen belongs to the Inverness I ken and love. So if Inverness is wrong, will Lallybroch be the same? Will it even be where it is supposed to be? Will Jenny be there, worrying for me? And Murtagh? What of Murtagh? Murtagh had come back with me from France. We had run into my Uncle Dougal and some MacKenzie men rustling cattle. That's why we were in the stramash with the British to start with. What of my Uncle Dougal and the rest of the MacKenzies, that we met up with? They would'na have left Murtagh and I to the British, even with the price on my head. Maybe they led them away. I think I need to go back to the stones when it is light. Things might be right there and this will all make sense. Perhaps this is all a dream. Or I am just confused. I had hit my head when the horse was shot and collapsed underneath me. It had been raining as well, which would hinder my sight. Still, I can make no sense of Lambert Beauchamp's coach or this flat. Wondrous things, both, but strange none the less.

I am tired but can not seem to sleep. My head will not rest. I need to think, to process all I have seen today. To try and make sense of it all. I think best when I walk. When I open the bedroom door, I hear voices. I follow the light and end up in the kitchen with Lambert and Randall. They are having a discussion about what, I do not ken. I clear my throat and they stop talking and look up at me.

"Are we too loud? Did we wake you?" Lambert asks.

"No," I reply. "I just could not sleep. Too many things going round in my head."

"Would you like a drink?" Frank asks and points to the whiskey by the 'sink'.

"Aye, don't mind if I do," I reply.

"We use teacups at this late hour. Claire would have our heads if she thought we were up all night drinking. Get a cup down and help yourself." Frank said as he pointed to one of the doors next to the window with his hand that held his cup.

I open the door and there are several cups neatly stacked. There is one cup, white with blue flowers painted around the rim. It is the only one with a matching saucer. None of the others are anywhere close to looking like it. I pick it up. It is verra fine bone china, verra pretty. I have seen cups like this at the King's court in Paris when I went once with my cousin Jared. I ken immediately who's cup it is.

"I would not use that one if I were you," Randall says. "That is, if you value your life. That one is Claire's. She does not like to share it; it is the last of her mother's teacups, you see.

"I like this one," I smile as I reply.

"Your funeral," Randall says and fills the cup almost to the rim. "Don't say I did not warn you." I take a large swallow and look at the table. The table we ate supper at an hour or so ago is covered with papers. Most has writing on it. There are some that are like tiny painting, paintings of smiling people, buildings or fields mostly. I pick up one of the paintings and it is smooth, no texture like my mother's paints have and these are verra small and not framed. All of them are black and white, no color to them at all. I turn the paper over and it is pure white and set it back down on the table. I do'na ken how you would hang one either. Some have writing on the back. One says Fort Williams and the year looks like 1939. It resembles the Fort Williams I ken, the one where I was flogged by Black Jack Randall in 1740. Someone does not ken how to write their numbers legibly. I set the paper back down and I shuffle through the rest on the table and find another piece of paper, this one is written in Gaelic.

I read the title:

The Song of the Clans (Oran Nam Fineachan Gaidhealach)  
by Alexander MacDonald  
1745

1745? That makes no sense I say to myself. It is 1742. I begin to read the poem in Gaelic:

Fchomuinn rìoghail rùnaich  
Sàr-ùmhlachd thugaibh uaibh,  
Biodh ur roisg gun smùirnein,  
'S gach cridh' gun treas gin lùib ann;  
Deoch-slàinte Sheumais Stiùbhairt  
Gu mùirneach cuir mu'n cuairt!  
Ach ma ta giamh air bith 'nur stamaig,  
A' chailis naomh na truaill.

I notice both Lambert and Randall have stopped talking. I look up from the poem and notice they are both staring at me.

I look at them both, raise an eyebrow and ask, "Aye?"

"You can read that, Jamie? Gaelic I mean?" Randall asks me.

"Aye, all educated Scots can, and I am an educated Scot. Schooled in Paris. I translate the first verse for them:

Beloved loyal people  
Now your true homage give,  
Let your eyes be moteless,  
Your hearts be true and fearless;  
The health of King James Stewart,  
Full gladly pass it round!  
But if within you fault is hidden  
Soil not the holy cup.

"Why?" I ask when I am finished.

"Since the bloody war I have not been able to locate anyone that can. I mean I am in Fucking Scotland, you think there would be plenty of Gaelic speaking Scots. But I guess they took King James at his word and stop speaking it as well as wearing tartans after Culloden. Would you be willing to help me, Jamie?" He asks. "I have need of a good translator. I am writing a book about the Jacobites and a lot of what I have found is in Gaelic. We could work out an arrangement. If you could, say, help me with the translations, then that would free me up to look for your Lallybroch. Deal?"

"Aye, I'd be happy to help, in exchange for finding my home, Lallybroch." I say.

"Look, I've got to go before Claire discovers that I'm still here. She'll be angry and banish me for a week or two if she finds I am here plying her uncle with alcohol." he states and starts to gather up his papers and place them in a leather satchel. "Lambert is meeting me at the library tomorrow. Would you come along? I would be very appreciative. I'll buy you a pint when we are done. Have we got a deal, Jamie?" and Randall holds out his hand for me to shake.

I nod and shake his hand. Lambert sees Randall to the door then walks back to the kitchen.

"I'm off to bed. Are you coming Jamie?" Lambert asks.

"No Lambert, not yet if you don't mind. I think I will stay up awhile longer. Finish my drink." I reply and raise my cup.

"Alright then, be sure to turn the lights out. Claire will not be happy if they are left on all night. I will leave the light on in the loo so you can find your way. Good night then." Lambert says, turns and goes to bed.

I turned off all the lights except a small lamp in the living room and take a seat at the kitchen table. I remove the shirt of the 'pajamas' Claire left for me. It rubs my back; I do not like it. Lambert had been nice enough to leave the bottle of whiskey out for me. I am on my second teacup, deep in thought, retracing every step I can remember I made today, when I heard someone clear their throat. I look up to see Claire leaning against the wall.

"Mind if I join you?" she asks.

"Fetch a cup and I'll pour you a dram," I say with a smile and stand up. I am really pleased she is up. She has a good mind. I enjoy talking to her.

"I see we have the same taste in cups," She nods her head at mine.

"The cup reminds me of the ones my mam had. We bairn were never allowed to touch them. My father had them shipped all the way from Paris as a present for her. I could not resist using this one now," Jamie said, felling his face turn red.

"No worries," she said. "I don't usually like to share it, for sentimental reasons, but I don't seem to mind your using it for some unexplainable reason. Are you sure I won't be disturbing your thoughts, if I stay?" she asks politely as she reached into the cabinet and takes down a cup. She hands it to me to fill.

"Aye, but that does not mean that the interruption is a bad thing." Jamie says. "The company of a very smart and bonnie lass is never one I would say 'no' to. What has you still up at this wee hour?"

"You." she answers directly. This lass has a glass face and does not hide behind her words either. As good as I give, she will give it back, I think to myself. Claire pulls a chair out, sits down and motions for me to do the same.

"Ouch," I reply and lift an eyebrow at her as I sit back down. "Whatever I have done for you to lose sleep? Please believe, I am truly sorry to cause you such distress."

"It's not any one thing I can put my finger on, Jamie." she starts. "I just feel a connection of sorts. From the moment I looked into your eyes. Like I know you, your soul, from somewhere. It's just a feeling. I wondered if you had the same response to our meeting. That's all. Do we know each other? Have we met?"

"I ken you are special Claire. Not like any lass I have met before. And I am drawn to ya, like a bee to a flower. I am a wee lost right now, ya ken. I am frustrated at not knowing where I am and how to get back home. But I ken I can trust ya. That your heart is good and that you will help me anyway ya can. I can'na tell ya how much I need that, what a comfort it is to me, ta have ya to talk to like this."

"As I said earlier, I am here to listen if you need to talk. I mean that Jamie. You can tell me anything, it will go no further. You can trust me," Claire says. "I hope I don't sound like I'm trying to pry. You just seem sad and lost."

"Where am I, Claire?" I ask simply. "I mean, where is this flat located?"

"Do you mean the actual address? It is No 21 Drumossie Avenue Apartment 3B Inverness, UK," Claire states. "Is that what you mean?"

"UK?" I ask.

"United Kingdom. England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. Have you never heard the term before?" Claire asks.

"I don't remember ever hearing 'UK' or Northern Ireland either. England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, yes, but never UK or Northern Ireland. Does that mean there is a Southern Ireland as well?" I ask.

"Yes," Claire answers. "Simply put Northern Ireland is mostly Protestant and call themselves Brits. Southern Ireland is predominantly Catholic and see themselves as Irish. Somewhere around 1920. Frank is the one you should ask about history. He remembers every date and detail. I don't have the mind for it," she said. "Now, if you need to know anything about blood and germs, I'm your gal," she adds with a flourish.

"That helps." I say. "May I ask how old ya are? What year ya were born?"

Claire tilts her head to the side on that one. "You know, a gentleman should never ask a lady her age," she smiles and laughs at me, "but I don't mind. I am 28 years. I was born in 1918. Why?"

"So this 1946?" I ask.

"October 1946, yes" Claire replies. "Did you not remember that? Did you hit your head and not tell me?" she asks with concern in her voice. She leans forward and looks into my eyes. "Are you dizzy or nauseous? Are your ears ringing? Do you have a headache?" Claire is clearly concerned for me. She stands up and turns on the kitchen light, walks to me, tilts my head back and looks directly in each of my eyes.

"I'm fine Claire." I say and remove her hand from my forehead. "Aye, the date, it matters," I state still trying to process the information Claire has given me. "It matters to me," and I shake my head in disbelief. "Do you believe in God, Claire? Divine intervention?"

"Going for the philosophically tough ones first, are you?" Claire states with a stern look and then smiles and laughs. "I am going to need a more comfortable seat for that one." She grabs the bottle and her cup, walks into the 'living room' and takes a seat on the far end of the settee. "Come sit down," and she pats the settee with her hand. "I promise I don't bite. Do I believe in God? I was raised Catholic. But my parents died when I was 5 so I don't really believe that I am a Catholic, Jamie. After that I lived with Uncle Lamb until I was 18. We led a nomadic life, traveling the world, so I had the opportunity to explore loads of different beliefs and lifestyles. Not any one of which, singularly, really worked for me. With the war and the atroscities of Hitler, it has become harder to believe in God."

"Now divine intervention, sure, I guess. If I believe there is a God, and that we each serve a purpose for being here, then there must be a 'bigger plan', right? Then I would want that God to step in and, correct a wrong or, right a person who is headed down the wrong path. Sure. I can believe in that. Why, Jamie?" She asks with her face full of concern. "Do you believe you have made a mistake, a wrong choice?" She changes positions on the settee. She turns so she is now facing me directly, her back against the arm of the settee, bringing her feet up on the cushions by bending her knees. She sits up wraps her arms around her legs and sets her chin on top of her knees and waits for me to answer.

"I don't suppose I ken, Claire. I mean how am I supposed to ken if I made the wrong choice or, if it is the right choice, the choice God has made for me, and it just seems wrong to me?" Jamie asks her and watches her face to see what she thinks.

Claire takes a good pull from her teacup and then looks to the floor to think. Finally she looks up. "I don't see how you could know. At some point the one you think is the 'wrong choice' should start to feel 'right' though, don't you think? Otherwise you'd just go about thinking it was wrong the entire time," was her reply. "It's like you, Jamie. I cannot help feeling that you were sent to me, for a reason, I mean. That something put Lamb there, at just the right time, to find you. That he was meant to bring you to me. Maybe, maybe not, I just have this feeling, nothing more. I have this really strong connection, or attraction if you will, that I feel for you. I don't know why and I certainly cannot explain it. Is it God's will that you are here for me or just a fork in one of our paths?"

She is shaking her head along with me. We are both confused by all that is happening between us. Each of us, deep in thought trying to figure it out.

She reaches out and touches the fingertips of my hand that is lying on the back of the settee. She is right, I feel a connection; I have right from the first moment she touched me. I have the strongest urge to gather her into my arms and hold her. I want her. I don't want her to be with anyone else but me. I don't want to be anywhere else but near her.

I have never felt this way, not even with Yvette. I thought I loved Yvette but I ken now what I really felt was just lust; my body wanted her, badly, but not my heart, my soul or my mind like I want Claire. I was drunk, I saw Yvette and she ken how to make me want her. I laid with her and I loved her, I thought, because she was my first. She was my one and only time, just the once. The next time we were in town, some three weeks later, I went to her and she told me she was pregnant with my bairn and let me feel her round, pouching belly to prove it. I ken I must do the right thing, wed her and take her home to Lallybroch. I slept in the same bed with her after that but we never laid together as one again; Yvette would not allow it, said it would hurt the bairn. And then suddenly she and the bairn were dead.

And Claire? She feels the same pull; I can see it in her face. That's why she would have allowed me to kiss her when she first came in the 'kitchen'. Her fingers are gently stroking the back of my hand. I can feel my heart beat slow. My head is no longer pounding. I close my eyes. I can hear her heart beat in rhythm with mine. I feel it in my chest. Two hearts, one heartbeat. I open my eyes and look at her. Her eyes open and lock with mine. She feels the one heartbeat as well.

"Devine Intervention, Jamie?" she asks. "Are you here for me? I think I have been waiting for you all my life."

I slide over to the cushion next to hers. She slips her toes under my thigh. I raise the palm of my hand and she places her palm against mine and says...

 _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;  
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,  
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss._

I smile. The woman kens her Shakespeare. I reply...

 _ **Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?**_

Claire replies...

 _ **Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.**_

I lean forward, my forehead touching hers and say...

 _ **O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;  
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.**_

And this amazing woman replies...

 _ **Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.**_

I tell her...

 _ **Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.  
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.**_

And I gently kiss her.

She whispers...

 _ **Then have my lips the sin that they have took.**_

I whisper in return...

 _ **Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!  
Give me my sin again.**_

And I place another gentle kiss on her lips.

Claire, she sighs and says.

 _ **You kiss by the book.**_

and kisses me back.

"It is Devine Intervention, Claire. Of that I am now sure. I am meant to be here, with you. Why? I do not ken, but here I am, none the less," and so I make my decision right then and there. A decision I ken I would never regret. I told Claire everything, as I saw it. From the moment Murtagh and I landed in Edinburgh to sitting on the settee with her. She asked questions, lots of them. About me, Lallybroch, about the stones, about where I thought I was, about my time. The entire time we remained in constant contact with each other, touching, feeling, caressing. I am no ones fool, I ken she has a lot of questions she did not ask as well.

At some point we fall asleep, sitting on the settee. I wake with the mornings light and find I am lying on the settee with a blanket over me and a pillow underneath my head. I sit up. No Claire. She is gone. The cups and bottle of whiskey are gone. I stretch. It is the longest I have slept since that damn ship left France. I feel not content, not happy but at peace. Claire has made that happen. I smile to myself. It is a step forward, not a big step but a step none the less.

Lambert comes around the corner, stops and smiles. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering what became of you. You best get up and have your shower while there is still hot water. I will make breakfast. We need to get going if we are going to meet Frank at the library."

"Where is Claire?" I ask.

Lambert smiles. "I knew you two would hit it off. She left for work. There is a note here for you from her; the envelope on the table. She told me to remind you that she has taken your clothes to be cleaned, so you need to wear some of the borrowed ones, at least for today. She says she is off tomorrow and she will take you back to the stones, if that makes any sense to you. Shake a leg, young man. Get a move on. Shower. Just how many eggs can you eat?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Day 1 The Library

I stand there looking at Lambert in utter confusion.

"Shake a leg? Why do you want me to do that, Lambert?" I ask.

Lambert stops, looks at me and laughs. "I don't mean it literally, it's a figure of speech, Jamie. It means get moving."

"Shower? What is that? Do you want me to stand in the rain?" I ask.

"No Jamie. A shower is like a bath only you stand up. The water falls down on you like rain. Come, I'll show you. Get your towel and wash cloth that Claire set out for you and meet me in the bathroom," Lambert says to me with a grin on his face.

Once in the 'bathroom', which turns out to be the 'loo', Lambert walks to this curtain and pulls it back. There is no window behind it, just a wall. How strange. Maybe it's like the tapestries on the walls in Castle Leoch. Maybe this one holds in heat, keeps away drafts, although this flat is neither cold nor drafty. On the floor is a tub, white, not metal, the size of a horse trough with feet on the bottom that lift it off the ground. The feet look like a cat's paw grabbing a round rock only the paws are much larger; it must be a verra large cat. Lambert pulls the curtain around the tub and covers the wall. "Keep the curtain inside the tub or the water will splash out and wet the floor. You turn the water on here," and he points at two knobs on the wall. "This one is Hot water," Lambert says, and turns one of the knobs and water comes out of this spout into the tub, like the Parish Pump in Broch Mordha. "This one is Cold water," and he turns it and more water comes out the spout. "You place your hand under the water and adjust the hot and cold water, like so, until it is the temperature you want. You try Jamie," Lambert says and steps back to let me by.

I put my hand under the water and it is warm to the touch. I look at Lambert and whisper, "You are a wizard, are you not, Lambert? Tell me true." I turn the Hot knob and quickly pull my hand out of the water. It is verra hot, almost scalding.

"Try turning the Cold one to even out the temperature," Lambert suggests. "Now if you want a bath, you take the plug and put it in the drain so the tub will fill up, like so," and Lambert places the plug in the drain. Sure as day, the water is captured and the tub starts to fill with water.

"Magic indeed." I express loudly and pat Lambert on his shoulder. "Well done wizard."

Smiling, Lambert tells me, "Now my niece Claire, she loves her bath. She will spend hours soaking. She comes out looking like a dried current. Since we are in a hurry today, you will have to take a shower," and Lambert reaches in, removes the plug and the water starts to go down the hole in the tub. I get down on my knees and look under the tub but there is no water pouring out the bottom of the tub.

"The water goes down this pipe, similar to what Claire showed you with the sink in the kitchen last night," and he points to a silver tube like ones I have seen in Paris to catch the rain water off roofs. It must take the water outside to a rain barrel, I think to myself.

"Now, for the shower, you simply lift this lever," and he raises a small metal knob on the spout and the water stops pouring out the spout. The water then starts coming out, much like rain, from a spout, covered in tiny holes, that is mounted on the wall almost even with the curtain.

"Truly magical. You are an amazing wizard Lambert," and I laugh out loud.

Lambert shows me the soap and 'shampoo', a verra special soap for my hair, places the shaving cup, brush and razor by the sink and then leaves me to 'my business'. I already have my 'toothbrush' and a brush for my hair from Claire last night.

I have to go back out to the kitchen so Lambert can release Claire's bandage from my arm, then I take my shower.

Dressing is not too difficult. The shirt is a verra soft plaid fabric. It has verra tiny buttons but even with my large hands, I manage. The breeks are big around the waist, but I have my belt to hold them up. I can not close the front however because the breeks have only one button at the verra top. I ca'na walk around exposing myself. When I show Lambert, he laughs. He says the 'trousers' only have one button at the waist and the rest is a 'zipper'. He shows me with his zipper how it works. I like it at first; I pull it up and down trying to figure out how it works, but then it starts to catch and pull the hairs around my cock and I stop playing with it. I hope Claire brings my kilt back tonight. I find these clothes verra confining. I have my boots and as it is a nice day, I will na need a coat Lambert says and he hands me a sweater instead. He says I must leave my sword and dirk here at Claire's apartment as Libraries do not allow weapons. I have my sgian dhu tucked into the back of my boot so I am na worried.

Washed, shaved, dressed and fed, Lambert and I walk out the door, down the three flights of stairs and outside. It is a beautiful day. Clear sky, not a single cloud. Not the usual rainy Scotland days I am used to. Lambert says we will 'catch the bus' and take it to the Library. I do'na ken what a 'bus' is but I am sure I can capture one for Lambert if he really wants one. Across 'the street' from Claire's apartment is a wonderful nest of trees which Lambert says is a park. We 'cross the street' at the 'intersection' when the 'traffic light' turns green and then we walk to the 'bus stop' to wait for 'the bus'. I am now just a little apprehensive about catching one. If it is large enough to carry both of us it must be as large as a highland cow. I am not sure I can catch an animal that size without help. We will have to see what a bus looks like.

There is a bench by the bus stop and Lambert sits down. He says the bus will come along in about 15 minutes so I turn and look at the 'park' and watch the people walk the paths and the bairn running and playing. Some people have dogs. They are attached to a lead, walking with the people. The dogs are not running wild like they do at Lallybroch and Castle Leoch. The men dress mostly like Frank and Lambert but the women, their manor of dress is shocking. Some are wearing breeks like the men, others are wearing skirts but the skirts stop at their knees. I can see their legs. No ones seems to mind or is shocked by this. These women can'na be whores because some women are pushing 'prams', verra small wagons that hold bairn, and walking with bairn, but they are certainly of verra loose morals. I can'na stop staring. Claire would never dress like that, I reassure myself.

Then something moves in the park I have never seen before. I knock Lambert in the shoulder and point, "What is that?" I ask.

"That Jamie, is a bicycle", Lambert says in answer to my stare.

"A by-sickle.," I repeat. It is not a scythe at all; it has nothing to do with cutting hay. And there are not two of them. According to Lambert, "it has two wheels and a seat in between the wheels. You sit on the seat and 'pedal' it to make it move and you can ride and steer it wherever you need to go."

It looks like fun and I tell Lambert, "I would like to try and pedal one." Everything I say seems to make Lambert laugh.

"Why do I not see any horses, Lambert?" I notice and comment to him.

Lambert replies, "The 'Bobbies' ride them in the park mostly, 'patrolling'." None of that makes any sense to me so I don't even ask any further questions. I make a note to ask Claire later about the horses.

There are lots of horseless carriages, however. All of various shapes, sizes and colors. Why Lambert has such a little one, I do not ken. The bus comes. It is a large horseless carriage as well. It is long with lots of windows. There are several people besides us that 'catch' the bus with us and there are more already on it. Some people even get off before we get on. Lambert puts coins in a box to pay for us to ride. I follow Lambert on and we find a seat that will hold us both. Lambert lets me sit next to the window and I look out it as the bus moves.

We pass a church. "Lambert," I say excitedly. "I ken that church."

"We can not stop and get off the bus now or we will be late to meet Frank. We can come back another time if you would like to see it," he offers. "It would not do for us to be late," he adds.

The bus makes several stops but we finally arrive at the Inverness Library. "Promptly at 9:00," Lambert announces and he puts his watch back in his pocket.

We find Randall already inside looking at tiny pieces of paper in little drawers in a chest. Frank calls it a 'card catalog'. "I have already pulled several books and placed them on the table over there, where my jacket is," he says and points to one of several tables by rows of bookcases. "I think I have pulled enough books for you to get started, Lambert." Randall turns to me and says, " I have the poem for you to translate out on the table as well, the one you started reading last night. It is about the battle of Culloden in1746 and I would really like to be able to read the poem. There is plenty of plain paper and a 'pen' for you to write with on the table as well. I really appreciate the help, Jamie. I am glad you came along."

Randall must have a wealthy benefactor to have so much clean paper. I have never seen such a quantity. It is fine and smooth, not like the paper my father had. The poem speaks of the clans that were involved in trying to regain the throne for Charles Stuart and his father King James. None of it had happened yet, or at least not before I came here. I ken all these clans; some are friends others are enemies. The poem even speaks of Clans Fraser and MacKenzie. I pick up 'a pen' to start writing. It is similar to the quills at home. The pen tip is shaped like a quill yet fashioned of metal so it does'na need sharpening. There is no ink well to dip the pen in that I can find however. I watch Lambert. He is writing. He never once dips the pen he is using in ink and yet the words are written in ink. I copy him and find the pen works. It does not need to be dipped in an ink well to work, apparently. The ink is wet when I write and smudges just like at home, I find out. More magic. I have translated the poem and put it to paper by the time Randall comes back with more books.

While I wait for Randall to read what I wrote, I take the envelope from my pocket; the note Claire left for me this morning. I open and read it.

 _Dearest Jamie-_

 _Thank you for last night. It was wonderful and I did not want the night to end. I have never felt such a pull of emotions in such a short span of time. Your openness and honesty with me means more than I can ever express. You treated me as an equal and for that alone, I thank you. You are indeed a rare man._

 _You allowed me a glimpse of your heart as well and I am honored. I am glad that you feel you can trust me with your "truths". They are safe with me. I will not fail you. I will not let you down._

 _I will meet up with you and Uncle Lamb at the Library when I finish work._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Claire_

I read it three times. I missed Claire this morning, she was gone by the time I woke up. Her smile and her laugh are already important to me. She is the first lass I have ever talked to at such length and in such depth. She has knowledge in a great many subjects and is quite well read; I find our conversations stimulating. Claire is feisty too. She has a good mind and challenges me; she does not just accept everything I say as fact but questions me, looking to find her own answers. She is kind and gentle as any good healer should be. And bonnie; her pale, smooth, flawless skin is like nothing I have ever seen before, with a beautiful nest of brown curly hair, a large, round arse that makes me have ungentlemanly thought about her, and those whiskey eyes, I could certainly look into them all day. There is no lass like her in my time. I will miss her when I go. When I asked her last night, she said she would take me back to the stones today, after work, to see if I can return to my time. Back to my family.

Randall is still reading the poem. I reach over and grab a book he has placed on the table. The book is titled _Midwinter_ by a John Buchan. The book is published in 1923 according to the title page. The back of the book has a picture of the author, Lambert calls them photographs. It also says the book is about a Scottish supporter of Prince Charles who sets out on a secret mission in the west of England to gain support for the Jacobite Rebellion. Sounds like a book for my sister; she loves these romance novels. I still have trouble accepting the idea that this book is writing about something that, for me, has yet to happen. I place the book back on the table.

Randall finally looks up at me and whispers "Thank you, Jamie. This translation is perfect. The poem will be an amazing help in finding direction for my research. It names several clans that were involved in the rising. Very helpful."

I nod my head and say, "Se do bheathe, Frank. Now, how do I start to try and find Lallybroch?"

"Well, we cannot do that here, we will have to go to the registrars office where land claims are filed and see if we can locate the property that way," Randall says. "I don't think it should be too difficult since you have a general idea where the estate is and know some of the family names associated with the property. Most of these large estates are no longer with the original families. Culloden was more than a loss of lives, it meant the end of the Scots way of life, for Highlanders especially. Most lost their homes to the British in retribution for supporting Prince Charlie rather than King George. The Scots were forbidden to speak Gaelic and the wearing of traditional dress, similar to the clothes you had on last night. Culloden cost them their property and their way of life, pretty much. Those that did not die on the battle field were often deported to the Americas or put in prison. Women and children were left to starve to death. There is a paper trail for your Lallybroch, I am sure of it, since it dates back to the early 1700's. We just have to find it." Randall places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring shake. I think if anyone can find it it will be Randall and I smile back.

"Lambert," Frank starts. "I have made arrangements to meet with Reverend Wakefield this afternoon. He has some very rare additions about the Jacobite Risings and is considered an expert in the field. Would you care to come along?"

Lambert looks up from his writing and says, "No. No, Frank, I was not planing to meet with you tomorrow either. I am expecting an old friend to come into town for a couple of days. That is part of the reason for my sudden visit. They will phone when they have arrived so I will go back to Claire's apartment and wait for their call."

Frank looks up and smiles. "Well, that is certainly vague, almost secretive. Have you got a woman, Lambert? You old dog, you. Why didn't you tell me? Who is she? Anyone I know? Did you flirt with the head librarian in Edinburgh and now have her coming to visit?"

I lean back in my chair, fold my arms across my chest and watch this exchange with a smile on my face. I miss this banter among men. In traveling with my uncle and clan MacKenzie, this exchange happened quite frequently. I miss it.

I watch as a shocked look comes over Lambert's face while he goes red and he stammers, "Frank, really! How could you think such a thing? A man of my age and a confirmed bachelor, as you well know. How could you even imagine such a thing? Honestly, I'll never understand how your mind works," and he lowers his head as he shakes it and goes back to writing.

Randall laughs, shakes his head in return and says, "Have it your way then, old friend." He then turns to me and says, "Well, looks to be just you and me then Jamie, unless you have something planned. Do you have a secret girlfriend you are meeting up with as well?"

I smile and look him straight in the face as I state, "I will wait here. Claire is coming to the library when she gets off work." I watch Frank's whole face smile upon hearing that Claire is coming. I then add, "Claire and I are going to Craigh na Dun this afternoon." It was verra mean of me, I ken, but I receive such pleasure as I watch his face fall and his eyes narrow at me when he realizes that Claire and I have already made plans. He does not like it. Only for an instant do I see his true feelings, then his mask is up and forced smile is back. Claire might not ken it but the man is in love with her. Or maybe she does ken and does'na care. Clearly she does not return his feelings. I observed Randall with Claire last night in the kitchen, as she prepared dinner. He was clinging to her, touching her, offering to help, trying to engage her in conversation, trying to make her laugh. He failed miserably. Claire mostly ignored him and directed her conversations to me. Several times she actually pushed Randall out of the kitchen "because he was in the way". He finally left, going into the living room, sulking, to talk to Lambert.

Randall had wanted to sleep at the 'flat' last night as well, but Claire would have none of that; anticipating it and stopping the implication before it became a verbal request. I had been given the 2nd bed in Lambert's room and Randall had been upset about that as well; I was staying the night and he was'na. No, I am not really worried, I've watched the way she looks at him; she tolerates him, almost like he is barely in the room. He is only her uncle's work associate to her, maybe a friend but not a close one. To bad Randall, Claire is mine for the taking.

But what am I thinking? My plan is to leave today, if I can figure out how I got here. That is why Claire is taking me back to the Stones. Why does it anger me to think of Randall wanting Claire? This Randall is not Black Jack Randall, though they look enough alike. Randall seems a good man, an honorable one as well. He would take good care of Claire. He is not much of a warrior, but he is educated. He would be a good provider. Cac. I don't like it. If I were staying, or could not return to my Scotland, my time, what would I do about Claire myself? That is not so simple. I am most certainly implying a wish to court her, with my behavior toward her last night. I wonder if Claire expects it or even wants me to? I have not even asked her uncle's permission to do so. Clearly, Lambert wishes it, expects it. It is almost like he is trying to help make it so. He seemed verra pleased about Claire and I this morning.

Last night I asked Claire to take me to the Stones and she consented to take me. All day today I have struggled with my thoughts and feelings for Claire. I have to ask myself, do I really want to go? I shake my head to get rid of the thought. I have been listening all morning to Randall speak of a Battle at Culloden and what will happen to the Highlanders, my family and friends because the Scots loose this battle. I need to go back. I need to get back to Lallybroch. To protect my sister and her family from what is going to happen. I can do nothing less. It is my duty as Laird. I can'na let the feelings I am beginning to have for this woman interfere with my going home. What does my Uncle Dougal always say..."family first, laddie."

I look up from my thoughts when suddenly Randall stands up straight, smooths his 'tie' and runs his hand over his hair; a peacock preening. Without even turning around I would bet my dirk I ken who is walking towards us... I stand up, turn around and watch Claire walk into the 'research section' we are sitting in and head toward us.


	6. Chapter 6 Day 1 The Library - Continued

When I see her smiling face walking toward me, and our eyes lock, I can'na help but grin ear to ear. Claire is as happy to see me as I am to see her. That is when I notice her skirt, or lack there of. I can see her legs all the way from her ankles up to her knees. Like the women in the park. Where is the rest of her skirt? I look around and notice the men sitting at nearby tables raise or turn their heads and watch her walk by and they are smiling. They like what they see. She is ignoring everyone and everything; she only sees me. She walks straight to me and places a soft kiss on my lips.

She then sets a rather large package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, on the table and her 'purse' beside it. She places her hand on my arm and leans around me to look at her Uncle. "Hello Lamb darling," she says with her voice full of sweetness.

Lambert raises his head, see's his niece and smiles. "Well, hello Claire. You are a little early, aren't you? I thought you would be here about 1 and I would take everyone to lunch."

"Things were slow at the hospital so they allowed me to leave a little early," Claire replies as she removes her gloves and sets them on her purse. "I wanted to see Jamie. I missed him this morning," she says sheepishly and her face turning a little red. She looks back at me as she unbuttons and removes her coat and hat then drape them over the back of a chair.

"Hello Claire," Randall's droll voice comes from somewhere behind me.

"Oh, hello Frank," was all Claire says in a whispered monotone. She stares into my eyes. "Sorry I missed you this morning, Jamie," she coos at me and brushes her hand up and down my arm. "You were sleeping so soundly this morning, I did not want to wake you to tell you I was leaving. Did you get my note?" She starts to moves a lock of hair from my forehead. She suddenly stops and steps back. "What?" she asks. "What's wrong? Why do you look so angry?"

I grab her elbow, a little more roughly than I intend, and pull her toward the rows of bookshelves. We need someplace with a little privacy.

Stubborn like a mule, Claire stops in her tracks. Does'na budge another inch. She's having no part of my directing her. She twists her elbow free from my grasp and folds her arms across her chest. She repeats, "What's wrong, Jamie? Why are you angry? Is it something I've done?"

"Look at the way you are dressed Claire," I start. "Where is your skirt, woman?"

Someone from one of the nearby tables 'shushes' us and reminds us that there is no talking allowed in the library.

Claire turns around and gives them a look that makes the man go back to his reading. I would never want to be on the receiving end of a look like that, I tell myself. Claire turns around and looks directly at me, still wearing that same face.

Somehow Claire's face went from verra happy to verra angry in the time it took my heart to beat once. "Jamie," Claire hisses in a verra angry whispered tone I did not much care for. "What in the world are you talking about? This skirt is just fine. I am dressed quite fashionably, Thank You Very Much. This is one of my very **best** outfits, I might add. I wore it just for you," Claire added with more than just a hint of anger in her tone. "And you are giving me a hard time because you think the skirt is too short? Are you kidding me?"

"It's not right for a woman to walk about with half their skirt missing, Claire" I whisper in a shocked voice and run my fingers through my hair. "People will think your a whore," I add without thinking.

Randall snorts loudly. I look over and he is leaning back in his chair, one arm folded over it's back, watching and listening to us argue with a huge grin on his face. He is enjoying this, the wee bastard.

"A whore? Are you kidding me? You think this outfit makes me look like a whore Jamie? You simply can not be serious!" She is infuriated and no longer whispering. Her eyes have narrowed in anger and her hands are balled into fists by her side. I have never seen a woman so mad before.

"No, Claire. I did not say you look like a whore. I said people might think you were one, because the bottom half of your skirt is gone." I stupidly reply.

Randall makes a minimal effort to stifle a laugh. He is unsuccessful. No surprise there. He is grinning ear to ear when I glance at him. He is enjoying this way too much.

To this Lambert interrupts and adds, "Remember Claire, where Jamie comes from a woman's skirts go to the floor. Showing ones ankles would be considered a bit trampish, or whorish to use Jamie's word." He looks at me, winks and then buries his face back in his book.

"Half my skirt is not missing, Jamie." Claire hisses at me and pokes me in the chest with her finger. She looks at Frank and asks, rather too sweetly I think, "How do you like the way I am dressed Frank? Do you think my skirt too short?" She turns back and shoots me a look; if looks could really kill, I'd be a dead man now.

Randall looks from a Verra Angry, Upset Claire to Squirming, Idiot Me and says, "I think you have never looked lovelier, Claire." He looks directly at me and smiles. Now I ball my hand into a fist. All I want to do is punch him, right where he smiles. Cac. To make the matter worse, the man that "shushed" us moments ago, turns, nods his head in confirmation to Randall's comment and says, "The man's right. She looks great. You're an idiot."

Claire turns her back on me and walks away, down to the end of the aisle and then turns left, away from the table. Do I follow or leave her alone, I ask myself? I am already walking after her before I have even decided that following her was probably not going to be my best course of action. When I reach the end of the aisle and look to the left. I do'na see her. I turn and walk down this aisle, looking both left and right down the rows of bookshelves until I find her on the left of the fourth aisle. She is sitting on the floor with her head on her bent knees and her arms draped over her head. She is talking to herself. "...and you got mad at him. You are such an idiot Beauchamp. Of course he doesn't understand. He is upset because..."

I clear my throat. Claire stops talking. "Claire," I start...

"Go away Jamie." Claire says. She does not lift her head from her knees to even look at me. "Please, just leave me alone."

I can'na do that. I can'na leave her this angry at me. I sit on the floor opposite her and wait.

Finally, she looks up at me. She has two black eyes. "Claire," I say with alarm. "You have broken your nose. I scoot across the floor until I am sitting next to her. My face is scanning hers, looking for the break in her nose. I grab my handkerchief from my sporran and ready for the bloody nose I ken is coming. I feel her nose for the break. "What did ya hit your nose on, Sassenach? I ken it hurts, but it is better that I set it right away."

"What are you talking about, Jamie?" Claire asks as she slaps my hands away. "I did not break my nose. I'd know if I hit it."

I start to wipe the tears from her cheeks and some of the black comes off on my handkerchief. I gasp in horror. "Claire, it's your tears! You are crying black tears! We need to get you to a healer, quickly." I stand, grab Claire by the shoulders and pull her to her feet.

"What? What are you talking about black tears, Jamie?" Claire takes her hands and wipes under both eyes then looks at her hands. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. My mascara is running all down my face. Oh damn, I must look a mess. No wonder you're scared."

I stop and stare at her when she utters 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ'. I think I actually stop breathing for a moment.

She catches my attention again when she looks up at me and now the whole lower half of her face is smeared in black. She looks like she has ash all over her face. I wipe her face again and more 'mascara' comes off her cheek. I hold my hand out to hand her my handkerchief.

She shakes her head 'No', turns and hides her face in the books behind her.

I could see the tears still rolling down her cheeks before she turned. I feel badly for having made her cry. I am a cad. "I think you are beautiful, in whatever ya wear, Sassenach. Honest. I am just not use to seeing ladies dressed as ya are, is all. Like Lambert said, women of my time, their skirts go to the floor. Ya have no way of knowing that. Please, forgive me, Sassenach." I lean against the same bookshelves and wait for her to turn around.

Claire just sniffles. Her open hand appears on her shoulder. I ken she is asking for the handkerchief. I place it in her hand.

"Dry your eyes Sassenach and tell me ya forgive me my stupidity, please" I ask her again. "I am truly sorry. Do'na be angry with me any more."

She lifts her head and turns to face me. "Oh Jamie. I'm not angry with you. Well I was, when I did not understand. But I am not mad at you now...this was my fault. I'm the idiot. The question is, can you forgive me?" She looks at me with such sadness in her eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive, Sassenach." I say as I reach out and tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "I think ya have verra nice legs. Ya look verra nice in your skirt too."

This makes Claire smile. "How would you know if I have nice legs if you have nothing to compare them to."

I am careful not to touch her. I can see she wants me to, needs me to, but I realize just how unfair I have been to her. Playing on her feelings. I can'na be anything to her. I can'na let myself be more. It will hurt her when I leave, for leave I must. It will hurt her more if I let things continue the way they have. She will give me her heart if I let her. She already has mine.

She is watching me. She sees I have made my decision not to touch her or comfort her with anything other than words. She wants me to hold her, like I did last night. I can see the sadness grow in her eyes but she does not fight me. She does'na beg me. For that I am grateful. I do'na ken if I could say no if she asks. She turns her body so that she is looking at the bookshelves across from where we stand. I look down at my hands and wait to follow her lead.

"I need to go to the Ladies Loo and clean up," she says, finally, with a sigh. "I will meet you back at the table. Can you find your own way back?" Rather than look me in the eye, she asks while looking down at her feet.

"Aye, Claire," I say. I turn and walk away. I do not look back.

"Jamie," Claire says when she returns, a little less black in the face, but her eyes give away she has been crying. "Look what I have found and she places an enormous book on the table in front of me. This book is called _A World Atlas_. It is a book of maps of the world. All countries, continents and bodies of water, here on Earth."

Both Lambert and Randall stop their reading, look up and watch.

Claire opens the book and starts flipping pages. _Great Britain_ is the first map she shows me. It has England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales & Scotland. The map is huge. It uses the entire two pages. It has such detail. It shows London, Edinburgh, Glasgow & Inverness, to name just a few of the cities it shows. It has towns I have never heard of. Lakes I have never seen. I run my hands over the map, feeling it, reading it, exploring it with my eyes and hands. I turn and look at her. This is a gift she is giving me. An olive branch she is extending. It is Information I will need.

She gives me a weak smile and asks, "Ready for the next one?"

I nod my head not really understanding what she means.

Claire turns to a _World Map_ and says, "this is a map of the World, Jamie. Planet Earth. It is drawn to scale, too. This is Great Britain," and she show me a small spot on this huge map. She shows me France, Spain and Italy. She shows me _The Americas_ , the New World she tells me, The Colonies. I have no words to express my gratitude for what she is showing me. I read the names of the countries... Russia, China, Australia, Canada, Greenland. She tells me the Arctic and the Antarctic never thaw. They are always frozen, like the 'ice cubes' from her refrigerator. Year round. She shows me how to find a map of any county I see on the World Map and then stands straight and says she will be back. She walks away and disappears down the aisle and around the corner.

I don't ken how long Claire is gone. I am amazed at this book. I am totally absorbed by it. I am finding countries I have never even heard of. Lambert walks around and helps me find things I am asking about and tells me about the countries I have never heard of. I do not notice that Randall is just sitting back in his chair, watching and listening.

When Claire returns, she has two new books with her. She sets one down on top of the _World Atlas_. This book is titled _Our Solar System._ Claire says it is a book about 'Planets'.

"We live on Planet Earth, Jamie." She begins. She opens the book and the first page she turns to shows all the planet in our solar system in size to each other and how close they are to the Sun. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune & Pluto. She tells me about telescopes, orbits, milky ways and worm holes. I do'na ken most of it but she says the book about planets we can take home with us; back to her flat. I can continue to look at it there. We must come back to look at the Atlas; it cannot be removed from the Library. She closes the first and sets down the second. _Scotland_ is the title of the 2nd book. It has a castle on the cover. "Beaufort," I say out loud. It is a picture of Beaufort Castle, my Grandsire's home in Beauly. I ken it anywhere.

I turn to Claire. I place my hand on her arm. She looks up from the book but won't look me in the eye. Instead she looks past me, at her Uncle. "Thank you Claire." I say to her. "This is truly a gift. It will make a great difference." She kens I mean it.

"Frank," Claire starts.

Randall looks up from watching me to look at Claire. "Yes?" he answers rather than asks.

"I think it would be a really good idea for Jamie to delay our trip to the Stones a day or two. I think Jamie should meet Reverend Wakefield and have a chat with him. He should go with you this afternoon. I was also thinking that maybe tomorrow, if you would be so kind, could you, rather would you, take Jamie to Culloden? Let him look around. You can best answer any questions he might have. I would not be the best person to take him; he would learn more from you. Would you do that, for me Frank?" Her voice is strong, but still full of sadness. She still will not look me in the face. "I will owe you a dinner, of your choosing, in return. Deal?"

Randall looks from Claire to me, then back. "If you're doing the cooking, and I get to pick what you prepare, then it's a deal." He turns and looks at me. "It's you and me mate, this afternoon, then. And tomorrow I will pick you up early. It will take us an hour by car to get to Culloden. There is an old castle, _Leoch_ I think it is pronounced, I've been meaning to stop and walk through. Home to a Clan MacKenzie for centuries. Wakefield's adopted son is a descendant from that particular clan. Also there is a Fort Williams in the general area I have been meaning to stop by and see. It was a foothold for the British Army. Lots of Scots were kept prisoner there. If it's Beaufort you recognize," and he taps the book cover, "then it will be overnight to take that in as well." He is watching my face for reactions to all that he says and mentions. My gaze meets his and I give him a half smile. I lean back in my chair, fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow at him. He raises his both his eyebrows at me in return. We are just short of growling at each other, testing each others resolve.

Lambert breaks the silence asking, "Are we done for the day then? Shall I take us to lunch? Claire said she is not hungry and has left to catch the bus for home."

My gaze breaks from Randall's at the mention of Claire leaving. I look and her coat is gone. I turn and look toward the door in time to see Claire practically running out the door. I get up and follow. I exit and see Claire running down the Library entrance steps.

"Claire," I call. She does not turn around. "Claire, wait," I plead. "Please, wait." She stops on the last step before she is to step onto the sidewalk. She allows me catch up to her. She won't look at me. I ken it's because she is crying. I ken better that to touch her, to turn her to look at me, to lift her head so I can look into her eyes. Instead, I walk around her, to stand in front of her, to block her, so she will listen to me.

"I am sorry Claire. I do'na mean ta hurt ya. I have to go back. Ya ken that, aye?" I say with as much gentleness as I can manage. In such a short time she has come to mean so much to me. It will be hard to let her go. The sooner I leave, the easier it will be for both of us.

"I know that Jamie," she says as she looks down at her hands, wringing them. "You have to go back. That does not make it any easier. That's why I got so mad earlier. I realized just how much it hurt for me to hear you to say you did not like what I was wearing." She looks up and holds her hand to my mouth to stop me from rebutting what she just said. Her cheeks are wet from tears. "I know that's not how you meant it, that's just how I took it. What made me cry was that I realized I got so mad at you because I care so much for you, already. It really hurt me to think that you did not like what I was wearing. That I thought you did not think I was pretty. That I displeased you. It has not been one full day, Jamie, and I am already this crazy for you that you can bring me to tears. You have my heart, something I have never given to another soul, not to my parents, not even to Lamb. And I will have to let you go, and I think that will break it. I truly do. I just need to walk for awhile, alright?"

I reach out and wipe a newly formed tear from her eye. "Claire," I whisper softly. "I feel the same way. I wish we had more time, that I did'na have to go, but I do, I must. I have to. My family..."

"I understand Jamie, really I do. It just does not make it easier, that's all." Claire replies and lowers her head. "I can not seem to stop how I feel about you. Just let me walk. I'll be alright by the time you come home, NO, by the time you come back to the flat for supper." She lifts her head and gives me the worst excuse for a smile I have ever seen.

"Claire, Claire."

I look up to see Randall coming towards us down the steps. He stops and places a hand on Claire's arm. My hand automatically balls into a fist when he touches her.

"Claire," Frank gently speaks my Sassenach's name. She looks up. Randall takes one look at her face and shoots me a look that says this is all my fault. I have hurt her. I have made Claire cry. He digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to her. My other hand balls into a fist. "Claire, do you remember last night, when I said that I knew Jamie from somewhere? Well, I remembered where. Do you remember the week you came to visit, before you moved here, right after the War ended. That holiday you took. I got you a room at that Bed and Breakfast on the square? Remember, your last night I was going to take you to dinner, only I was late because I was working with Reverend Wakefield all afternoon and we always loose track of time. Remember how bad the weather was? Pouring rain. I was soaked by the time I got to your room and you said I looked as though I had seen a ghost? Remember? Do you remember how I described the chap I saw?"

Claire answered, "Tall, well over 6 feet. Red hair. In full Highlander dress. A running Stag broach and a brown bonnet. Yes, yes. I remember."

Randall turns to to me and asks, "Do you have a broach, Jamie?"

I reach into my sporran and take out the running stag broach my sister Jenny gave to me for my 21st birthday and hand it to Randall. "Is that the one you saw?" I ask Randall.

He nods his head in affermation.

Claire says, "No Frank, that can not be. You said it was a ghost. Not a real person. That the man turned before you could get a good look at his face. It was raining and it's been over a year. You can not possibly say for sure it was Jamie." Claire looks me in the face.

"I have had strange dreams my whole life, Sassench. They are often about a woman, with wild curly brown hair, beautiful pale, flawless skin and a laugh that brings me to climax every time I dream it. I have been in love with her since she first appeared, when I was 14. Most of the dreams take place in my time. Places that I recognize as around Lallybroch. She has spoken to me in French, Sassenach, so I thought she was French. I thought the woman was Yvette until I met you. You speak French, don't you Claire? Not like a native, but your accent is good, aye?"

Claire nods her head.

"I had a dream once, that never made any sense to me until I came here. I was standing in the rain, looking up at you, Sassenach. I could see you standing in a 2nd floor window. The window had a glow; even though it was full night, no moon, pouring rain, the room was bright. 1000 lit candles could not make this brightness. You were brushing your hair. You were mad because your hair was a tangled mess and you could not get the brush through it. You said, 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ', Claire, just as clearly as you did just awhile ago in the Library. I don't remember you from any of my dreams, Randall, nor Lambert. Only Claire. And sometimes a funny little frenchman that looks like a frog."


	7. Chapter 7 - The Manse

_I remember once, a nurse I worked with while I was stationed in Germany during the war, told me that I needed to start living my life. That my knight in shining armor may really exist, but what if, because I never went out, dated or did anything other than work, read and bathe, what if I missed him, I never met him. Or if I did meet him, I was so boring that I was not his dream gal. Her advise was to live, to have fun. If a guy asked me out, I should go. What was the worst that could happen? I'd have a nice meal and maybe loose a little sleep because I did not stay in and go to bed promptly at 9pm. Maybe his best friend was the perfect guy for me and my date would introduce us. I had to be willing to risk my heart to find happiness, she said. So when my heart's desire asked me again to to go with him to Reverend Wakefield's and Culluden, I said yes, and went. I tried not to let my own heavy heart get in the way of enjoying my time with Jamie, my very own Sir Galahad. I needed to make memories that would last me a lifetime. Jamie was going to be gone and this would all come crashing to an end soon enough._

Finally. Claire has agreed to come with Randall and I to Reverend Wakefield's after lunch as well as Culloden tomorrow. I ken I don't have much time with her. I want to be near her as much as I can. I need to make memories that will last me a lifetime. This will come to an end soon enough.

The three of us return to the library. Claire 'checks out' the books on Planets and Scotland as well as a book titled _The Time Machine_ by H. G. Wells so I can take them back to the flat to look through them. She thinks I will enjoy H. G. Wells as an author and that he was a verra prolific writer with a keen imagination. We pack up all Randall's papers and pens and leave for lunch.

It is decided to eat at a tavern a short walk from the Library, _The Uisage Beatha,_ Water of Life I translate for Claire. It is like walking back in time for me. Two doors admit us; a street door, a small alcove and then an interior door. A large bar sits against the far wall. Tables with church pews, used as seats, run along every available wall with plenty of tables and chairs between the pews and the bar. There is a large fireplace on wall opposite the bar with a fire going. At the back there is a raised platform, I do'na ken why. Two large windows at the front admit the only light. I immediately feel at home here. We find a 'booth' and I guide Claire in and then I sit beside her. Lambert is off to use the loo and says to order a round of beers. The bar maid come to the table and Randall orders 4 pints, and she leaves to fetch the drinks and menus.

Randall starts talking. I no not about what. I am not listening. Claire reaches under the table and places her hand in mine. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Finally, she has forgiven me. I turn and look at her. She is tracing the grain in the wooden table with the fingernail of her other hand. I reach out and place my other hand on top of hers and with my thumb, I slowly start to caress it. She closes her eyes and sighs. I feel her heart beat slow as she relaxes. Finally she turns and looks at me. It is the first time since I chased after her when she left the Library that she has looked directly at me. We neither of us have any words to speak. We just touch. She relaxes enough to slide up next to me and leans her head against my arm and I can take another breath. I lay my cheek on the top of her head and lean back against the pew. We will be alright. I feel the tension in my shoulders start ease and my body starts to relax a little as well.

Randall acts like he is oblivious to us. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a piece of paper. He stands and fetches a pen from the inside pocket of his coat, which is hanging on a 'coat hook' on the side of the pew. Randall sits down starts to draw on the paper. He is talking, but neither Claire nor I are listening.

Claire asks, "Why do you keep calling me Sassenach, Jamie?"

Randall lifts his head and says, "It's a Gaelic word, Claire. It how Scots refer to the English. A Sassenach is like an Outlander or an Outsider to them. A English person. We have the same slang in our language for a Scot. We refer to them as a Jock."

"Aye," I say and nod my head. "I use it to refer to your Englishness, Claire. I use it as a term of endearment. No one will call you a Sassenach but me," and I gently stroke her hand.

Lambert is back from the loo and slides in next to Randall so he is sitting across from me. Lambert reaches out and places his hand on top of ours and pats them. We both watch him. "Don't worry you two." Lambert says. "My friend is coming. He will know what needs to be done. All that is wrong, I am , can be fixed. Go with Frank today Jamie and take Claire with you. Go to Reverend Wakefield's. There is important information for you to learn there. Information for you both. Claire, you must go with Jamie tomorrow as well; he needs you now more than ever. Life will always throw obstacles in your path. The trick is to work together to overcome them. Remain united. Resolve the issues as a pair. Do not let the problems divide you, use them make your bond stronger. Have faith and remain true to your feelings for each other. It will all work out." And he smiled at us.

The barmaid is back with the beers and menus. She sets them on the table and walks away.

Randall slides the paper he has been working on toward Claire and I. It is a map...a very poor map, of Scotland. He has drawn **X** 's in various spots and labeled them - Inverness, Culloden, Castle Leoch, Beauly, Prestonpans, Falkirk, Wentworth and Ardsmuir. I take the pen from his hand. After the words Wentworth and Ardsmuir, I add the word Prison. Why in the world does he want to go there I wonder. What does he ken about those prisons? I then add Fort William. Randall looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I nod my head. Now it is Randall's turn to be confused. I place an **X** labeled Lallybroch where I think the estate should be. Claire takes the pen from me and adds Craig na Dun and Edinburgh.

Randall leans back, laughs and says, "We'll be gone a week if we see all this."

Claire say, "If we will really need a week, I will need to ask if I can take several days off from work. Oh and Jamie, this package is your dry cleaning" and she pats the rather bulky package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. "Your clothes, back from the cleaners. I picked them up after work. But I think we are going to have to go shopping. One kilt, one shirt, one vest, one jacket and one pair of wool socks will not do. The borrowed clothes are fine for a day or two around the flat but you will need more than at least one change of clothes for this trip. Also, you gave me no boxers. Did you wash them yourself in the sink?"

"Boxers?" I ask.

"Underwear, chap." Randall says to me.

Aye," I say. "I do'na want to take this trip without them." I have no idea what they are talking about. I make a note to ask Claire what 'under where' is when we are alone.

The barmaid returns and we order lunch. Steak and kidney pie is now one of my new favorite meals. I hope Claire kens how to make it. I eat mine, then half of Claire's, as she says she is full, after a hand full of bites, and is'na going to finish hers. Lambert then says he is full and pushes his bowl of Lamb Stew to me to finish and I use the last of the bread to wipe the bowl.

"You are a bottomless pit," Randall says as he swaps my empty plate for his and lets me finish his fish and chips as well. He even has the maid bring me more bread.

Claire says, "they serve Cranachan, if you have room for desert, Jamie."

I eat two. Life is always better on a full stomach. I can not remember when I have eaten so well.

Mrs. Graham, the Reverend Wakefield's housekeeper, answers the door when Randall knocks. I ken this because that's the name he uses to greet her. She is a friendly looking woman and greets us with the same enthusiasm Mrs. FitzGibbon showed when I came back to Castle Leoch after a night of Cattle Rustling with my Uncle Dougal when I was a lad of 14. I think there are certain women that simply love men. They love to be around them, listen to them talk, take care of them. They spend their days doing whatever needs to be done for them - sewing, cooking, nursing them when they are sick and healing them when they are injured. They are always good cooks and you never leave their table hungry . They, plain and simple, love even the smell of men. I have found they are usually older, widowed women. They must miss their own men, so they look to take care of others. Mrs. Graham is such a woman. She somehow kens I know this about her. I can see it in her eyes when she looks past Randall and directly at me.

"Hello, Mrs. Graham," Randall says. "Is the Reverend waiting for me? I am a little late for our appointment. You remember Claire, don't you?"

Mrs. Graham moves to the side and opens the door wide allowing Randall to walk by. I walk in next with my body between Claire and whatever is in the house, protecting her. I have a tight grip on her hand. I do not ken this house or these people.

"Mrs. Graham," Claire exclaims. "How nice to see you again. I'd like you to meet my friend, James Fraser. Jamie, this is Mrs. Graham, Reverend Wakefield's housekeeper and a friend of mine," she adds and gently squeezes my hand. I relax a little. Claire seems comfortable here.

I nod my head to Mrs. Graham and she smiles at me. "Come in, come in. Lets get you in front of a fire, to warm up. Both of you without a coat! Not an ounce of sense between the two of you, I must say," and she laughs. "Go on into the study. I'll make a pot of tea and bring it right in. That will warm ya up. I have some biscuits ready as well."

As we enter the Entry Hall, I notice a small boy sitting quietly on the stairs with a wee toy in his hands. The lad looks up at me when we enter and watches me with large green eyes. I wink at him, which of course means both eyes close, and the lad laughs.

"What's your name laddie?" I ask.

"Roger, sir," he replies.

"Jamie, this is Roger Wakefield. The Reverend Wakefield's adopted son. How old are you now, Roger?" Claire asks.

"Six." Roger answers. "My da's name is MacKenzie," he adds proudly. "I am Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie," and he nods his head.

"My name is James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. I'm verra pleased to meet you, Roger. What's that you have?" I ask and point to the toy in his hand.

Roger's eyes get big a saucers when I say my name. "That's a lot of names. One is the same as mine," he says. "This is a present from my da," he adds and holds it up so Jamie can look at it. "My da is missing. My mam is dead."

"My mam and da are both dead as well. So are Claire's," I say and walk over to the side of the stairs and looks through the railing at Roger. I am eye to eye with the lad. Roger puts his hand through the rail and shows his toy to me. I do'na ken what kind of toy it is; I have never seen anything like it. Claire walks up beside me and opens her hand to take the toy...

"What a lovely airplane you have Roger. Do you know what kind of plane it is?" Claire asks. I do'na ken what an airplane is. Claire will explain it later, I'm sure.

"It's a spitfire, like my da flew in the war," he answers. He hands it to Claire, who in turn hands it to me.

"An airplane flies in the air like a bird, don't they Roger?" Claire says in an attempt to engage the boy in conversation. She turns to me. "The simplest way to explain it is, they are like cars, but they fly in the air like birds. Way above the clouds. They carry people from place to place. Across land, over mountains and oceans."

"Frank," Claire calls and then turns.

Randall is standing the the Entry Hall . He has been watching and listening to the entire exchange. "Yes Claire?" Randall answers. The Reverend is standing beside him, his face has a look of puzzlement on it.

"Roger, if I were to take an ship from, say, Inverness to America in the 1700's, how long would it take? Approximately," she asks him.

"In the 1700's? By ship, probably two months, with good weather. Frank states with certainty. "What do you think Reverend?"

"Um, yes, maybe two to three months. Yes, I'd say that would get you there," the Reverend agreed.

"Why, in the world, would you want to know that, Claire?" Frank inquired.

"Jamie and I were just talking to Roger, that's all. Thanks Frank." Claire says and turns back to me. "So, in a modern ship, that same voyage can now be done in less than 7 days. An airplane can make the same trip in a day. For people like you, who dislike sailing so, a plane makes traveling possible. And we have not even started on trains..." and Claire laughs and places her hand lightly on my arm.

I give the lad back his airplane and thank him for letting me hold it.

The lad smiles and asks, "would you like to see my room?"

"May I bring Claire?" I ask.

Roger frowns. "She's a girl. But if ya wan'na bring her, I guess it would be alright."

"Well, ya see Roger," I whisper through the railing to him like Claire is'na even here. "I'm kin'a partial to her, ya see, and we would'na want ta hurt her feelings by excluding her, would we?"

"Nooo," Roger replies hesitantly. "She's welcome too then," and he smiles at us.

And up the stairs we go to visit Roger's room. Roger gives us a guided tour. A wonderful bairn's room full of toys, books, puzzles and such. We have a grand time. Claire and I sit on Roger's bed as Roger brings his treasures to us one at a time. Claire and I make a sufficient amount of 'oohs and ahhhs', showing great interest and adoration to each object he brings, that he is quite happy and encouraged to bring toy after toy until finally he brings a book, climbs into my lap and asks me to read it to him. Claire sits back, leans against the wall and listens to me as I read _Peter Rabbit_ by Beatrix Potter. What a wonderful story. Peter is such a mischievous fellow. I think my brother Willie and Peter Rabbit are kindred spirits. Roger climbs down off my lap to put the book away and get another one when Mrs. Graham appears at the door.

"There ya all are. I was about to send a search party out to find the three of ya," she says with a smile. "Tea's served, in the study with the Reverend and Mr. Randall. And you, young man," she says to Roger as she tousles his hair, come with me. We will make ya some hot cocoa and maybe I have a biscuit or two for ya as well, aye?"

"Thank ya most kindly Roger, for allowing Claire and I to visit your private sanctuary. Maybe next time we can play with your cars."

That makes Roger smile ear to ear.

I help Claire stand and we go downstairs in search of sustenance and adult conversation. There is plenty to be had in the Reverend's study. When we enter the room, the Reverend and Randall are deep in an argument about one Clarence Marylebone, The Duke of Sandringham, as to whether he was or was not a Jacobite supporter.

After a few minutes of listening to them banter, I say out loud "I do'na ken whether he was a Jacobite supporter or no, but he was most definitely a sodomite." That stops the discussion as two pairs of eyes turn to me in unison with shocked looks upon their faces. I place one of Mrs. Graham's biscuits in my mouth, whole, as Claire hands me a verra pretty but tiny cup of tea and places another biscuit on the saucer and I smile at the two men. Time to tell some of my truths to Randall. It is not like he does'na already guess at it anyway. He has been watching and listening to me all day, even though he pretended sometimes he is'na. And he is an educated man, not daft. Randall told me at the Library today that he is a Doctor; Dr. Frank Randall, Phd., in History, he told me with pride. His 'thesis' was _The Jacobite Rising of 1719;_ Randall is a published author, specializing in a piece of history that is verra important to me. He has information I need to hear.

Claire sits down on the settee and pats the cushion beside her for me to come sit. She sets a plate of biscuits on the table in front of me, takes hold of my hand and I begin the portion of my tale that I will share with them. I try and explain, with the truth as I ken it, how, when my horse was shot out from under me, I was in 1743 and when I woke up, I was in 1946. When I am done, both Randall and Reverend Wakefield are open mouthed and silent.

"You're serious, Jamie?" is how Randall begins when he finally regains his ability to speak. "You believe you were born in May of 1721 and that in April 1743, you are shot and you wake up here in October 1946? Have I got that correct? And Claire, you believe him? You believe what he is saying?"

"Weel, that's not exactly what I said," I remind him. "The horse I was riding was shot. When the horse fell, I hit my head. Claire's Uncle Lambert can speak for where he found me. I just ken I was at Craigh na Dun when I hit my head and at Craigh na Dun when I came to. If you ken what happened between the two, I would like verra much to hear it."

"Jamie," Claire interrupts. "Just because you don't have your arm in a sling, like you should, does not mean you can ignore the fact that you were shot in the shoulder as well as dislocating it."

Mrs. Graham clears her throat. We all turn and there she is, holding a fresh pot of tea and looking a bit sheepish. "Jamie, if ya don't mind I call ya by your first name, I might have an idea as to how ya came to be here, now, having left 1743 behind ya. If ya'd care ta hear it."

"Now, Mrs. Graham, I don't want you spouting any of your poppy-cock to these nice people. It's one thing when it's me, quite another when it is guests that don't know you the way I do," the Reverend intervenes while shaking his head.

Jamie turned to the Reverend. "I would like to hear what the woman has to say if ya don't mind. Since I have no explanation of my own, I am not adverse to hearing someone else's thoughts on the matter. I can make up my own mind to choose to believe her or not."

"Why don't we go into the kitchen then," Mrs. Graham suggests. "I'll give ya a larger cup of tea in there and I have some fresh biscuits I just took out of the oven." I stood up, extended my hand to Claire, and the two of us leave the study and follow Mrs. Graham to the kitchen.

Claire and I take a seat at the table in the kitchen. True to her word, Mrs. Graham, who tells me her name is Margret but that her friends call her Maggie, and that Claire and I are most certainly her friends, places a large mug of tea in front of me. "A wee bit of scotch never hurt anyone on a day like this, aye?" she says as she pours a hefty dollop into my mug and winks at me. She sets down another plate of fresh, hot biscuits and I immediately place one in my mouth and blink at her. My new friend Maggie likes men.

"These are excellent, Maggie. As good as any I have ever had, and I have eaten biscuits in King Louis's court," I tell her. "What do ya call them again?"

"Shortbread," she replies with a slight blush to her cheeks. "My dear Granny's receipt, handed down to me when I was just a lass. I'll wrap some up to take home with ya then," and she starts to get up to do just that. I put my hand on her arm to stop her. I motion for her to sit back down.

"There is plenty of time for that, lass. Ya ken do it before we go. I want to hear what you ken about the Stones. About Craigh na Dun. Tell me, please."

"The Stones are old, old as man himself, maybe older," she starts. She drops her smile and her face becomes serious. "I'm what's known as a druid, but also a caller. Like my Grandmother was and her Grandmother before her. Callers skip a generation, ya see. I learned to speak to the Stones from my Gran. And she from hers. And so on back in time. My Gran taught me the words and how to call to them. To open them. Four times a year we meet to worship and call them. My Gran taught me the way it was taught to her, every:

Lughanasadh – The beginning of the harvest August 1st

Samhain – The end of the harvest / beginning of Winter October 31st

Imbolc – St. Bridig's Day / The beginning of Spring February 1st

Beltane – May Day May 1s

We dance and sing to the stones, starting an hour before sunrise. At the start of sunrise as we see the sun come up over the horizon, the caller speaks to the stones and when we see the full sun we put out our torches and leave until the next meeting."

Jamie's hand is gripping mine. "I did'na come on Auld Hallow's Eve. I came through the Stones last night. I left my Scotland April 1st, 1743. I arrived here in this Scotland on October 26th, 1946. Not at sunrise, both in the night. Both in the pouring rain."

"Did the Stones call ya then?" Maggie asked me.

"Call to me? How would they call to me? Ya mean did I hear ya singing from the other side of the stones? Na, if ya were calling, I did'na hear ya. I was too busy fighting the British to hear anything but battle cries, gun fire and swords." I say in reply.

"We would not have been singing then. We will sing in 4 days time," Maggie reminded me. Someone must have opened the Stones to allow you through, though. The Stones usually call to a soul, like siren calls to a sailor. Some say it sounds like wind, others say it sounds like a roar. Either way, the Stones call to ya before they take ya and someone would have ta wake the Stones before that. I've never heard of a sunset calling. Who would want ya here? Now? There is good and there is evil in the world. Whoever it was must be a powerful druid to do it before Samhain."

"Good and evil," Jamie repeats and looks at Mrs. Graham with a tilt of his head.

"Give me your hand," Maggie asks in a demanding sort of way. "Let see what your palm can tell me," and she lightly puts her fingers around my wrist and pulls my left hand towards her and flattens my palm.

"Mrs. Graham, I mean Maggie, has read my palm Jamie. She is really quite good. She also reads tea leaves. Let's see what Maggie has to say about you, your future and your past perhaps. There may be clues or answers," Claire says. "Maggie, when you read my hand you use my right hand. You are reading Jamie's left. Is there a reason?"

Maggie runs her fingers over my palm and looks seriously and deeply into it. "One should always read a woman's right hand and a man's left," she replies to my question but does'na look up at me, she looks at Jamie and says "You are left handed. Unusual for a warrior such as yourself."

"And just why do ya think I am a warrior?" I ask with skepticism and I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Because you've been watchful of the lass since ya came to the door. Ya are pleasant enough but ya have not dropped your guard since ya came in except when ya were upstairs with Roger," she replies. "Even then, ya kept yourself between Claire and the door."

I smile and give a soft laugh. "Ya are right enough there."

"You do Jamie? Are you protecting me?" I place his right hand, which I have been holding almost continually since lunch, in my lap and place my right hand over our interlocked fingers and trace his knuckles. I lean over and place a brief kiss on his cheek and whisper, "I never noticed. That's really very sweet, Jamie."

I turn, place a kiss on her forehead and reply, "Always Sassenach." I turn back to Maggie and ask, "and just how do ya ken I am left handed?"

"Because ya keep Claire on your right and hold her hand in your right. Keeps your sword hand free, yes?" and Maggie smiles back at me. "Even though ya don't have your weapon on ya. Ya do have a small knife in the back of your left boot. Always armed."

"You do Jamie?" Claire seems surprised.

"This," and she traces a thick line around the base of my thumb where it meets my palm, with the nail of her little finger, "is your family line. See how thick it is? Family is everything to you. You would do anything for them and to protect them. This," and she traces a thinner line that goes from in between my thumb and forefinger, encircles and encompasses the pad at the base of my thumb, "is your life line. You are going to live to be a verra old man," she looks up and smiles at me. "It is a bit odd though, there is this shadow of a second line, like there may be two lives. What is really odd is this second, lighter line has 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 lines crossing it. That would mean this second life has 9 lives before they die. How odd. How could a person die 8 times and come back to life after each death?" Maggie shakes her head as if to clear the thought.

That was what the old gypsy fortune teller in Paris had hinted at. She had called me a cat with nine lives, I remind myself. I had been too cheap to pay her to find out. I click my tongue against my teeth.

"This line," and she traces a line a that starts about my middle finger and goes to the end of my palm just under my little finger, " is your heart line. Most heart lines start here under the index finger. This can mean that your heart was broken at an early age so that you refused to love for awhile. That means you usually find your heart later in life. Most find their first love when they are in their teens and love several times before they settle down. Not you. Now you see this lighter smaller semi-circle inside just above the heart line? When the heart line is reinforced with this inner heart line it means you will give your heart only once. See how deep the line is. True love and devotion to the lucky woman. You will'na stray. She looks up and shifts her look to Claire and then back down to my palm. "But now the marriage line, well it looks like two marriages, although one is verra faint, almost like it's not there. And it crosses over the deeper marriage line, like ya are married to two women at the same time. Your not one of those bigamists, are ya now, Jamie?" she giggles as she asks but I can see in her face she is serious and watching me for my reaction to what she said. "See this line," and she traces one that joins with the inner marriage line and then jets down toward the center of the palm. "This one I do'na see verra often. It's your passion line. It means just what you think. You are passionate about how you feel and live. But connected to the inner marriage line is significant. Your wife will never worry about how you feel about her.

"What about bairn? Can ya see how many I will sire?" I shift my gaze out the corner of my eye to look at Claire, to see how she responds to the question. My wee glass faced Sassenach is turning a wee red. I smile.

"Only women have the lines to show how many children they will bare. Sorry Jamie. See this line," and she traces one that starts joined with the life line but is basically a straight line to the center of my palm. "This is the head line. It usually curves and follow the life line. Not yours. Yours is straight as a arrow. You are as stubborn as they come. No compromise for you."

My Sassenach laughs out loud with that statement.

I turn and look at her. She stops laughing but continues to smile.

"The passion line, presented like it is, usually means ya will not stray far," Maggie continues. "But your whole hand is really a conundrum. It contradicts itself several times. Long life but you'll die 8 times. Faithful to your one true love but you'll marry twice. Strong family ties but you'll leave them. Finish your tea. Lets see what the leaves say, shall we?"

I turn to look at Claire. To see how she is taking all this. She lifts her head, looks me straight in the eye and says, "Kiss me, my wee conundrum."

I smile, laugh and turn to Mrs. Graham. "Thank you Maggie. This has been most enjoyable and informative. But I think I will skip the reading of the tea leave for today. I need to go back to the study. I have questions for the Jacobite experts and then it sounds like Claire and I need to go clothes shopping. Did I say that correctly, Sassenach?"

"Perfectly." Claire responds and smiles.

We both stand. I take one last biscuit and pop it in my mouth and swallow the last of my tea. We take our leave of Mrs. Graham and find our way back to the study. I have a great deal of history to catch up on. My teachers await.


	8. Chapter 8 - Shopping

"Jamie," Claire exclaims, looking up from her wrist watch. "Look at the time. We've got to get moving if we are going to go by _Kinloch Anderson_. We need to get you at least another kilt. I'd like to find you a pair of trousers, I'm sorry, breeks, and a couple of shirts as well. We've got to hurry. The shoppes will close for supper soon."

I look up from a map the Reverend has spread out on a table. Randall has been explaining the British strong holds and known ambush spots as Wakefield has been telling me about the Jacobite movements. This is valuable information. They have been lecturing for over three hours now, and I think they could continue until the wee hours of the morning and not run out of facts to share. My mind is overwhelmed with this new knowledge. I think it is time to give my head a rest. I have not even begun to sift though the thoughts that Mrs. Graham left with me. Clothes shopping with Claire is just what my head needs. Well, actually time with Claire is really what I need, clothes shopping will be the distraction to be alone with her. My Sassenach is my confidant and adviser. We will work through all this information together.

Randall starts to pack his satchel but I say, "No need for you to leave Randall. Clearly you two have a great deal more to speak about. Claire and I can walk to the shoppes and then back to her flat from here."

"What? And miss clothes shopping with you. Not a chance." Randall says and continues to pack his papers.

I turn and look at Claire. She shrugs her shoulder as if to say 'I don't know what to tell you' and I look back at the Reverend, extend my hand to him and say, "This has indeed been an honor, Reverend. I can'na thank you enough for your time, wisdom and knowledge. You have been most generous with all three. I am sure Randall here will keep you updated as to the success of my return. Hopefully my return home can make a difference."

The Reverend takes my hand in both of his. "You will be in my prayers, James. I wish you well and safe travels then if your mind is made up to go back. Perhaps we shall find you in our history books, if you are successful, that is," he says and shakes his head in disbelief. "The lord's workings are a mystery sometimes. It will all become clear to you and I at some point, I hope."

Claire steps forward and places her hand in mine, nods her head to the Reverend and tells Randall we will meet him outside by the car. We turn to walk to the kitchen and Mrs. Graham. Goodbyes are said and hugs given and we leave the Manse behind.

When we arrive at _Kinloch Anderson_ , Claire marches in, dragging me with her. Randall holds the door open, letting us pass and then follows us in. We are greeted by a verra friendly gentleman, dressed verra strangely. Like Randall, a coat, verra short waistcoat (Claire calls it a vest) and breeks all of a matching dark blue, a verra finely woven fabric. A white shirt and instead of a stock around his throat, matching the shirt fabric, he has what Randall calls a 'tie' made of clan MacDonald plaid. Who ties clan plaid around their throat unless ya expect someone ta grab ya by it and strangle ya? Especially MacDonald colours. That's almost as bad as waving red fabric at a male highland cow. But then Clan MacDonald is always sticking their necks out. I smile to myself at my wee joke.

Claire walks up to the man and said, "We'd like to see what you have in a Fraser tartan, please. We are specifically looking for a kilt." Almost like she's done it 1000 times before rather than bluffing her way through this first time. She does make me smile. She is wee fierce when she has to be.

The man seems a little startled, but gathers himself and tell Claire to follow him. He walks us to the back wall and there must be over 100 different plaids hanging on the wall. "We have both the dress and the weathered Fraser of Lovat tartan in stock. Which are you interested in Madame?"

Claire turns to me and asks, "Do you have a preference, Jamie?"

I do'na ken dress from weathered. The look on my face must tell Claire that for she turns back to the gentleman and says, "We'd like to see both please." I turn and Randall is just standing there, leaning against a table, smiling. He is having way too much enjoyment at my expense today.

The gentlemen picks up a verra long stick with a hook on the end and walks to a section and lifts a 'hanger' which has fabric of red with blue and green plaid running through it. I ken this tartan. It is Fraser colours for sure. This is the Lairds plaid, and although I am a Fraser Laird and entitled to wear it, I don't want anyone here or when I go back, to ken it. Mine is safe with Jenny at Lallybroch. I have seen this plaid worn in a portrait painting somewhere as well, though where I saw the painting, I can'na recall. The man then lifts down a second tartan. This one is predominately a blue with red and green plaid woven through it but I now ken why the gentleman uses the word weathered. I would use the word hunt or hunter. The first plaid's colours are vibrant and bright. This second plaid's colours are much more subtle than the first. Blends in better with the heather, scrubs, trees and grasses and such. Makes for better cover when you are hunting, or being hunted; not so easy to find.

I turn to Claire and say, "The second one."

The gentleman snaps his fingers and a much younger lad comes over. Dressed almost the same as the gentleman helping us but his tie is a different plaid. I do'na ken his clan. "Place this in changing room 2 for the gentleman to try on," the older gentleman says to the younger one and hands him the Fraser hunt kilt."

"No, no. I am sorry I did not make myself clear." Claire interrupts. "We are looking for the 9 yards of fabric, not the per-made kilt. My friend here folds his own. The old fashioned way," Claire says in clarification.

The gentleman nods his head to indicate he understands completely and pulls down another hanger and has just what we need. He calls the young man back, explains the change and then he turns back to Claire and says, "The gentleman will need a belt as well then. Would Madame care to look at any shirts, ties or a jacket to go with the kilt, today?"

"Yes," Claire starts. "Frank, what do you think, 1 or two dress shirts?"

"Two I think is best, Claire. If he dirties one, he will have a back up," he says. "We don't know how many days we will be gone yet."

And then to me, she says, "White or Eggshell, Jamie? Or one of each I suppose."

"I do'na ken 'eggshell', Claire" is the only answer I can give.

She turns back to the gentleman and says, "One of each white and eggshell please. You will have to measure my friend. I am unsure of his size."

The older gentleman walks toward me with a piece of cloth. It has wee numbers written on it. He walks around behind me and I turn around so that I continually face him.

Frank walks over, places a hand on my shoulder and says, "You need to stand still, Jamie. The man needs to measure your shoulder width, your neck and the length of your arm to correctly fit the shirts. Just look at Claire. I will watch him for you," and he nods his head at me.

I nod my head in return. It feels strange to allow this Randall to guard my back since it is another Randall, Franks relation, that created the damage that I do not want to the man ken is there. I shake my head, to clear the thought, and and look at Claire instead. She is smiling at me and I smile back.

"We will need trousers as well as a belt so you best measure his waist and instep while you have the tape measure out," she says to the gentleman, "A brown pair, something with a tuck in the front to give him some moving room, please."

"The trousers will be for special purposes since you prefer kilts, Jamie. You must have at least one pair. I think one pair in a brown will do for present." Claire says as she walks up and places her hand on my cheek. I can see she really just wants to be alone with me. She wants to talk about today. To hear my thoughts about what everyone said and did. "Tonight," I say as I look into her eyes. "After supper and Lambert goes to bed. Will his friend be at the flat, do you think?"

Claire shakes her head 'No, I don't think Lamb will be back tonight either." and she gives me a look I do not ken. At first I think the look is hunger, which does'na really make sense to me, since we just had tea and biscuits. The look is only there for a moment and then it is gone, but I think maybe, just maybe, it was hunger, just not for food.

"Do you ken this friend of his?" I ask.

"I don't know who Lamb is referring to, Jamie. He is being rather vague about this friend, isn't he? Claire expresses. She turns to Randall and asks, "Do you know who this mysterious friend of Uncle Lamb's is, Frank?"

"No," Frank answers. "When he mentioned he had a friend coming to town, the way he worded it, I thought he had a girlfriend, Claire. Ask Jamie. I even teased him a little, and Lambert actually got a little angry about it. He did say something odd, however. He implied that Jamie was the reason he was here, that this mysterious friend had asked Lambert to come and meet Jamie; like they knew Jamie was coming." Randall looked me in the eye and said, "It's not my imagination, right, Jamie? Lambert said he was here to meet you."

"Aye, that's what Lambert said Claire," I add. "Lambert in the carriage, told me he was coming back from Edinburgh. Some research he was doing for you, Randall."

"Research for me?" Randall repeats with surprise in his voice. "Edinburgh? Really? That would have taken overnight Claire. Your uncle did not even ask to borrow the car until about 5pm last night. Just as we were finishing up at the Library. That's when he told me to come to dinner, so I could pick up the car as well."

"This whole thing does not make any sense, Jamie" Claire states. "It's not like Lamb to be so secretive. What's going on?"

"I guess we will ken when this mystery man shows up, aye? Jamie states. "We will just have to wait."

"Sir," the gentleman addresses Jamie. "We are ready for you. If you will please follow me. Right this way."

I turn and look at Claire. Claire nod her head. "It's alright, Jamie. You are just going to try everything on to make sure that it all fits and that you like the items. That you are happy with the choices. I will wait right here for you to come out and show me, alright?"

I nod my head but do not move.

"Jamie, I can not go back there with you." Claire whispers and strokes my cheek. "It's not allowed. No one will be in the actual room to see your back, if that is your concern. You will dress and undress in private. I promise." She then turns to Frank and says, "Frank, will you go back to the dressing room with Jamie. He doesn't need you to go in and help, just be there in case he has any trouble with things?"

"Sure, Claire." Randall replies, but looks a little confused. "Come with me then Jamie. Let's see if any of these things fit, shall we?"

And back to the dressing room we go.

"Claire." I call as I step out of the 'fitting room' a couple of minutes later wearing the kilt, new belt and white shirt . She is looking at a table covered in ties. I start to walk over to her, as she lifts her head and looks at me. Her glass face tells me she is pleased with what she sees.

"There is a saying, Jamie, "The clothes make the man' however in your case I think it is 'The man makes the clothes.' You look resplendent." She says with a smile and sighs. "Do you like it? Are you comfortable?" she asks as she rounds my back and smooths the shirts shoulders. The shirt is a nice fit, Jamie. You don't feel restricted do you? Take your arms and do this..." and she stand in front of me, raises both arms to shoulder height, crosses one arm over the other, like she is trying to hug herself. "That will tell us if the shirt is too small across the back." She walks around and again runs her hand across my back. "No. It looks like it fits well. Jamie?"

"I have plenty of room, Claire. It is a verra fine fabric. This is the white one. I will put the egg shirt on with the breeks. Ya want me change now?" I ask.

"Yes, lets see if the trousers fit and the other shirt." Claire agrees.

I turn and go back to the fitting room. I come back out a few minutes later, barefoot and in the breeks and the egg shirt. "Claire." I say, and I stand still and wait.

Claire turns and just for just a moment I see that look of love mixed with want and desire in her eyes. I look down at the ground for a moment to give Claire a chance to recover and then I walk to her.

"You are... You look..." and she gives up and just smiles. She leans forward as if to kiss me but stops. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She then opens her eyes and the look is gone. She places two fingers of her fingers in the waist of the breeks and pulls slightly. "The waist seems to fit. How do they feel? Are they comfortable?"

I nod my head. I can not take my eyes off her face. Claire is trying awfully hard not to look me.

"Shoes or work boots. You can not wear the ones you have with these pants. Socks, boxers, several undershirts. What about a sweater? Jacket? Vest?" She looks everywhere but at me when she asks.

I walk another step forward and place my hand on her arm. "Claire," I say softly. "Sassneach, look at me, please."

She raises her head and I let her see that I want her as much, if not more, than she wants me. I gently shake my head 'No'. A single tear rolls down her cheek and I wipe it away with the knuckle of my forefinger.

Randall clears his throat.

"Handkerchiefs. We need a couple of handkerchiefs for you as well," Claire says and gives me an attempt at a smile.

The gentleman leads me to a platform with 3 mirrors that are taller than I am. I stand and let the gentleman 'mark' the trousers to be hemmed. Claire says, The shoppe will have the trousers altered and delivered to Claire's flat first thing tomorrow morning.

"The pants should have a one inch cuff as well." Randall adds. And Claire agrees and tells the gentleman to make note.

We go two doors down to Barbour's to look for a jacket for me. I will need it while we travel. Claire finds a "handsome hunter green with a brown corduroy collar." It has nice large pockets and plaid inside; Claire calls it a lining. The plaid is similar to the MacKenzie tartan. Claire says the lining is flannel and will keep me warm. It has a zipper to close the front, no buttons. Claire also finds a 'cardigan' sweater for me. A beautiful blue with brown wooden buttons down the front.

"Those poor stores never knew what hit them," Randall says when we leave a little more than two hours later. "Claire, you had 4 salesmen running in ten different directions. Like a General you were, barking orders. Jamie, do you even know what you have in these parcels? At least you know what boxers are now," and Randall laughs.

We pile back into Randall's wee carriage. This is the same carriage that Lambert was driving when he found me last night in the rain. Less than a day ago. Randall says it is his car, that Lambert borrows it sometimes. There is no room in the little back seat for Claire because of all the packages. She sits on my lap the trip back to her flat. There is plenty of room when the 'roof is down'.

Randall pulls up in front of Claire's building. "Are you coming up for a drink before you head home Frank?" Claire asks.

"No," he replies. "I think I will go back to my place and go over my notes from today. I had a lot of help and lots of notes. Thanks though. I will pick you two up tomorrow at 9am sharp. Try and get some sleep." and he smiles sheepishly at Claire.

"Thank you Frank," I start. "I really appreciate all your help as well. The information you shared with me today will be verra valuable when I return." This is the first time I have call him by his first name. I wonder if that means we are friends...

"We may not have found your Lallybroch, but if you really can and do return to your time I guess it won't really matter much, will it? Why don't you help Claire upstairs with these packages and then come down for the rest. I will wait here."

"Alright Frank." and I open the door and wait for Claire.

Claire goes up to Frank and says, "Thank you so much for everything today," as she rests her hand lightly on his arm. "It's a real help to Jamie, and to me, and I am indebted to you for this and tomorrow's travels. I don't know if I will ever be able to repay you."

"Well, Miss Beauchamp, if this is an attempt to get out of that promised dinner, you are sadly mistaken. I will hold you to it." Frank says with a smile. "Now go upstairs, draw yourself a nice hot bath. Have a glass of scotch and go to bed EARLY. We have a very busy day scheduled for tomorrow." He kisses her lightly on the cheek and Claire lets him. She has never allowed him to touch her in that manner before. My eyes narrow as Frank's gaze meets mine when Claire turns and walks through the open door.

"I will be right back Randall," I promise. I continue to give him a narrowed look, then turn and follow Claire into the building and up the stairs.

True to my word, I am back down the stairs in no time. I practically throw the packages on the settee when we get to the flat, in my haste to get back downstairs and confront Randall. He kissed My Claire. On the cheek, aye, but a kiss is a kiss. And Claire allowed it. And she touched him. Flirted almost. With Randall, no less. I will have a talk with Claire after I have words with Randall. Claire is mine. No more of this touching and kissing on the cheek with each other. Kissing on the cheek leads to kissing on the lips. No. That will not happen.

I burst out the door and there is Randall, leaning against the car with his arms folded across his chest and a 'cat that caught the bird' grin on his face. I puff myself up to my full height, straighten my back, which makes my chest look larger and I lock eyes with him. I walk the three large steps until I am less than arms length from him. I could easily grab him around the throat and throttle him like a chicken.

"Oh? Did I upset you, Jamie?" Randall asks sarcastically. "You don't like that I kissed Claire and she kissed me back, do you?"

"No. No I do not," I state succinctly. "I do'na like you touching her at all."

"Well, I don't like You touching Her either, so we are even." Randall enunciates. "However, Claire, for some unexplainable reason, has become really quite attached to you, in what I consider to be an extremely short amount of time. I will have to give you that one and make allowances for it. So what I really can only object to is You making her Cry. Making her Sad. Hurting her at all." Randall replies and pokes me in my puffed up chest with his finger. "How do you like that, my wee warrior?"

"Do'na poke me." I growl. "Claire is mine, Randall...

"Oh, really? Yours? Does Claire know that? I think things were pretty clear between the two of you, almost from the start, last night and when she first arrived at the Library; things were still strong between you two this morning. But something happened there, at the Library. Was it when you made her mad? Maybe. She came back from your little discussion having obviously been crying. I think that is when the dynamic changed. I think your feelings for each other have not altered; you clearly feel something for Claire and she is most definitely ready to give her heart to you. Plain as day while we were shopping. She looks at you the way I always hoped she would someday look at me, but never has. But now you are holding yourself back and Claire in check. And that is making a woman I care for very deeply, cry and in obvious pain. I won't have her crying and hurt, do you hear me? I certainly will not tell you what to do. I am simply advising you not to hurt her. Do you hear me? If you are leaving then stop stringing her along. If you are staying, then you better love and take care of her the way she deserves. I am watching you James Fraser. I am warning you, Do Not Hurt Claire." Randall abruptly stopped talking and stared at me. He clearly is waiting for my reply.

"I love her Randall. She is my heart." I state. "But the information you and the Reverend have shared makes it clear, I must return if I can." I grab the last couple of packages, turn and walk back to the door. I stop and turn back to Randall and say, "Do not ever tell me what to do or threaten me again. Are we clear? I will do what I ken is the correct thing to do." I turn, walk into the building, up the stairs and into Claire's flat. I close and bolt the door behind me. "Claire?" I call out.

"Yes," says my beautiful Sassenach as she pokes her head out of the kitchen.

I place the last of the packages on the settee and walk up to Claire. I grab her by the arms tightly, move her so that she is pressed against the same wall she pushed me against when she fixed my shoulder and I kissed her. HARD. And Long. And I only stopped because I needed to breathe.

"oh my," is all my Sassenach can say.


	9. Chapter 9 - Culloden

"Oh my," is all my Sassenach has to say about the kiss? I will have to try again, try harder. That is certainly not the desired response, not the one I was hoping for. I hold her head in my hands, my thumb caresses her cheek. I look deep into her eyes and show her again, how I truly feel. My look reminds her how verra much I care for her. How verra much I love her.

She sees. She closes her eyes and sighs. I ken she has waited a lifetime for this moment. I will go slowly. There is no need to rush.

I start by kissing her. I tilt her head, move slowly and gently down her long, lovely neck, move under her chin, her throat and then back up the other side; kissing and nibbling as I go.

Claire moans, softly.

This is the response I am expecting. The one I want to hear. I nibble her ear, gently pulling the lobe with my teeth. "I want you, Claire," I whisper. There is a huskiness to my voice. "I can scarce draw breath for the wanting of you." I kiss her softly on the mouth, then once on each of her closed eyelids, ending back on her lips for a long, lingering kiss.

Claire moans my name, each time I place a kiss and then sighs when I end the one on her lips. "Tell me you want me, Claire." There is an urgency to my voice as I whisper the words. I grab a handful of her hair, use it to pull her head to the side and gently bite her neck and shoulder.

"Oh," Claire almost sighs rather than whispers, "Oh, I want you, Jamie. Please...please want me...oh, don't stop..." She pleads. Her hands grab my arms, fingernails digging through my shirt and into my flesh, like she is holding on for dear life.

"Tell me you'll have me, Claire." I whisper to my Sassenach. My hand moves down her neck, my thumb skims her throat, down her chest and comes to rest on her breast. I continue to kiss and nibble her neck as my thumb begins to rub her through her shirt.

"Ooooh, Yes, I'll have you James Fraser." Claire pants. "I need you." pant "Now." pant "Please." Her hands release me. She untucks her shirt and begins to unbutton it.

I stop kissing her, step back and watch. My hands drop to my side.

In a matter of moments she has unbuttoned and removed her shirt. She lets it to fall to the floor. She has some sort of garment made of lace on now, that was under the shirt. It is not a shirt, not a shift, most definitely a lace bodice of some kind without sleeves, no lacings, no ties, and short; it does not cover anything but her breasts. I can'na stop looking at her. Her perfect, pale skin, her verra wee, sheer, lace bodice...I start to reach out to touch her bare skin...

Claire becomes shy or embarrassed or both. She takes her arms and lays them across her chest. Trying to cover herself and the wee bodice. Her eyes are pleading with me...to be pleased, to want her just the way she is. As if I could ever find her less than everything my heart desires...

I remove my shirt, to help her feel easier, and step closer. I reach my hand out, slowly remove one of her hands, bring the wrist to my lips and gently kissing it. I place her palm on my chest, over my heart. I do the same with her other hand. Her eyes follow each movement. I then reach out and trace the bone from her shoulder to the base of her throat.

Claire's eyes lift meet mine and slowly she runs her tongue over her lips. My breathing hitches as I watch her. God, I want her.

My index finger draws a line from the base of her throat down to the space between her breasts. Where the verra sheer lace meets in a **V**.

Claire inhales and gently sucks then bits her lower lip. I gasp in response and wet my own lips. She has my undivided attention.

The tips of my fingers follow the top of the lace until my hand is over her breast. My hand cups her breast from underneath, feeling the weight of it in my palm. My thumb gently rubs, feeling for her nipple though the lace. When I find it, and rub it, her nipple hardens, responding to my caress.

Claire slowly removes a hand from my chest, reaches up and slides the ribbon that is attached to the lace, off her shoulder.

I do'na ken why but I am mesmerized by this action. I watch as the ribbon slides down her arm. I remove my hand and the lace that covers her breast falls away. I now have Claire's naked breast to gently cup in the palm of my hand. I can not take my eyes from it as my fingers gently pull the nipple and I hear Claire's response to the touch. Oh, I like that wee noise.

I look up and Claire barely nods and I ken. I reach up and softly, with the fingertip of my other hand, I brush her shoulder and the ribbon slips off and down her arm. I look back into her eyes. I am completely under her spell and she kens I am verra happy to be there.

She lifts her arms up from under the ribbons and the lace falls down, uncovering her other breast. The lace does not fall to the floor, however. Something is holding it in place. She reaches behind her and the next thing I ken, her lace bodice falls to the floor in a puddle at her feet. I am moved beyond words when I look at her. She is a Goddess. I will do anything for her. Anything she asks.

My Sassenach must read minds. She says, "Take me to bed Jamie. Give yourself to me tonight. Please. I want to know the feel of you. I will hold you to nothing. I will let you go when the time comes for you to leave. No tears. Just give me tonight in exchange for letting you go forever."

"I am yours, completely, tonight. Do with me as you desire, Claire." I reach over and turn the kitchen light off, then bend and place her nipple in my mouth and begin to lick, suckle and bite until Claire's knees start to buckle and she can stand no longer. I pick her up in my arms and take her to bed. She is mine Randall, and yes, Claire kens it. She is mine and I am hers.

 _I open my eyes to darkness. The only light is from my bedroom window. I sit beside him as he lay sleeping. This amazing man has been made just for me. The moon casts a shadow of light on Jamie and his beautifully chiseled body. I want to touch him but I know that my touch will wake him. I want him to sleep just a little while longer, then I will wake him and he will take me again because I will ask him to. He has given himself to me tonight. Completely. He has held nothing back. I know it was not an easy thing for him to do. He loves me, but he is a man of honor and must leave. Soon. And I must let him go. Tonight is his gift to me. I have a gift for him as well. I take his hand in mine and whisper softly, "I, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, take thee, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do part," and I gently kiss my husband on the lips. This will be my little secret. My gift. Tonight he belongs to me. There will be no other for me after he is gone. His gift to me is his love and his body. My gift to him, though he will never know, will be his child._

I open my eyes and there is my Sassenach, naked, holding my hand and kissing me. I could become use to waking in this manor. I take my free hand, run my fingers through her hair until my hand is behind her head and hold her in the kiss. I sigh when it is over. A kiss like that should never end, I think. "What are you do'n awake, Sassenach?" I ask and run my hand down her arm. She is as cold as that ice cube.

"I need you Jamie." She states, simply, and runs her fingers up my leg and discovers I need her as well. She swings her leg over my hips and with the help of her hand, positions herself and I slip inside. She is ready. What has my Sassenach been up to? She sets the pace, slowly and gently at first, we are a crescendo in motion with a grande finale that leaves us both spent and panting. She collapses on my chest in a spent heap. I find the quilt that had been pushed aside in our passion and cover her with it, wrapping my arms around her, to keep her near me, safe and warm.

Morning comes all too soon.

If nothing else can be said, Randall is prompt. 9 am sharp there is a knock on the door. Claire is running around the flat like a loon, throwing things into an "overnight bag". I go to the door, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Lambert.

"Disappointed are you?" he asks as he shuffles past me and into the flat. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"The question is, just where have ya been, Lambert?" I ask and grin waiting for his answer. "I'm think'n Randall might have gotten it right. Do ya have a lady friend?" I turn and watch him walk into the living room. He eyes all the packages, and then glaces back at me. Ooch, Claire and I forgot to put them away. "Do ya no have your key then, Lambert?"

"What did Claire do? Buy out Kenloch Anderson's?" He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen. I ken, for coffee. "And yes, in answer to your inquiry, I do have my key. I thought it unwise to use it, to just barge in. I thought it best to knock," he says over his shoulder.

I am still watching Lambert as he walks away and start to close the door, when it abruptly stops. I turn and there is Randall, his hand on the door, with another grin I do'na care for, on his smug face. I really want to punch him sometimes and I have to mentally tell myself to unclench my fist. "You're late," I state and walk quickly to the kitchen, leaving Randall to close the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, Claire has picked up our discarded clothes from last night. I then walk to the settee to pick up the packages. Randall, damn him, has noticed them and watches as I gather them up and take them back to the room I share with Lambert. I walk back out to start down the hall to Claire's room and notice Randall is leaning against the wall, yet again, watching me. Smiling, like he kens something. "Do ya no have something else ta do? Like get a cup of coffee, or something?" I ask.

"No," Randall says and that smug smile gets even bigger. Now I really want to punch him.

I knock on Claire's door even though it is open. She looks up from the bed, scattered with clothes, and smiles at me. I look back at Randall, still watching, I enter the room and close the door behind me. I hear Randall laugh out loud. I, again, have to mentally tell myself to unclench my fist. Both hands this time. As I walk, Claire turns to face me. I place my hands on her waist, pull her to me and she lets me kiss her. Her arms go up around my neck and her fingers play in my hair on the back of my neck.

"Lambert's back," I say and kiss her.

"I heard," she replies and kisses me back.

"Randall's here" kiss.

"I heard" kiss back.

"We forgot" kiss.

"What did we forget" kiss back.

"the packages on" kiss.

"Packages on what" kiss back.

"On the settee" kiss.

"Oh" kiss back "Ooohhh. Oh well" kiss back again...

"You picked" kiss.

"Picked?" kiss back.

"Up the clothes" kiss.

"we left in the kitchen?" kiss back.

"yes" kiss.

"yes, this morning" kiss back.

"Clever lass" kiss.

"Yes, I know" kiss back. "I got you to kiss me, when you did not want to, remember?"

"Yes, you did but Randall helped ya" I smile and kiss her again.

She looks up at me confused.

Claire is finally packed, the car is loaded and we are off. No sign of Lambert's friend. And Lambert has skillfully managed to avoid answering any of our questions about the mystery friend. Claire gives him a copy of our 'itinerary' and says we will be back in two or three days. Before the 31st.

An hour later, we are at Culloden. Randall's knowledge is unbelievable, better than any book I could find and read. I almost do not need to read anything at the exhibit. He explains the maps showing the British strategic plans and where the Scots line up and were fired upon by cannons.

Claire asks "Is the portrait of Prince Charles a good likeness, Jamie?" as she stands in front of it. "He has a very weak chin and I do not much care for his eyes. They look shifty."

"I have never see a portrait of him nor have I ever met him. His father fled to Italy. That is where he met and married his wife and she gave birth to their two sons. I do not think Charles has ever set foot on Scottish land," I tell her.

"That's what history tells us. Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Pretender, was in fact, born in Italy." Randall adds. "When he arrives in Scotland some 9 months prior to Culloden, it is the first time he has ever stepped on Scottish soil. It might explain why he made some of the strategic mistakes he made, in choosing battle locations. Or perhaps his Generals were just idiots, or both. Before the battle here is over, and mind you it only takes the British an hour to kill almost 2000 Scots, Prince Charles is whisked away. He makes it back to France, disguised as a woman's hand maid, and from there back to Italy. He never leaves again. He is buried at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, with his father, mother and brother.

We walk through the rest of the exhibit, mostly in silence. I took hold of Claire's hand when we first enter and never let go of it. I need the feel of her, her strength, to get through this. 2000 Scots dead in less than an hour. Almost unbelievable.

When we leave the exhibit, Randall takes us down a path. "This is where the Scots line up, waiting for Prince Charles' orders to attack. Charles is back there," and he turns and points. "Not on a hill where Charles can look down and see the battle. This is flat land, he can see nothing but the backs of his men. He has no idea what the British are even doing or how they are moving. This is basically open boggy land. And the battle does not take place until after 11 am. There is no fog for cover by that time and it has started to rain. The British shoot grapeshot through the cannons and use bayonets when they get in close. This was a death trap for the Jacobite. A great many of them fled, only to be hunted down by Cumberland, whom they aptly nickname 'The Butcher', and were killed.

We reach the path marked for the Memorial Cairn and the clan graves. I find the MacKenzie clan marker right away. I kneel and say a prayer for my Uncle Dougal, Rupert and Angus whom I ken are there; my Uncle Dougal was a staunch Jacobite supporter and Rupert and Angus would follow him anywhere. Claire has walked away and stops in front of another marker just down the path. She is just staring. I ken which marker she has found. I walk over and place my hand on the Fraser Clan stone. I wonder if my Godfather Murtagh is here. Probably not. He had no love for the Jacobite. He probably left long before this battle, for France; a cousin is a wine merchant. If I had not arrived through the stones, and learn what I now ken, I probably would have gone with him.

"If I come back here the day after you return, you will be buried here, won't you?" Claire almost moans, glancing at me then quickly looks away. "Why does Prince Charles pick this of all places. The Scots don't stand a chance, yet they are so bloody honorable, they stay, fight and are slaughtered." She turns and walks into my arms and I can feel her body shake from her sobs. At least I have a clean handkerchief to offer her.

"Claire," I start. "Randall and Reverend Wakefield have given me so much information. If I take this back, then maybe you will come the day after I leave, and none of this is here, because we stopped it, aye?" I kiss the top of her head. "Maybe, just maybe, I can help change this piece of history and maybe I could come back to you when my work there is done. Would ya want me to return to ya, Claire?" I ask and I hold my breath waiting for her answer.

She stops crying and lifts her head. "I don't want you to go," she sniffs. "Of course I would want you to come back, if you could. Do you really think you could, stop all this, I mean?"

"I do'na ken Claire, but Randall must because he is sharing his knowledge. What would be the point, if I could'na make a difference, aye? Maybe that is why I was sent here." I say this to help make her feel better. I turn to Randall, "It's possible, aye? I might be able to change this, change the outcome? Possibly?"

"I don't know. I'm not really sure if we would even know if you changed anything, Jamie," Randall says and shrugs his shoulders. "I am not sure what Claire and I would even remember. If you go back, and change things, then history records the new changes as truth; the old history is no longer even history, understand? Claire and I would only know the new history. Then you have to ask yourself do Claire and I ever really meet you? We are walking a philosophical tightrope here and I don't have the answers to any of it, Jamie." Randall reaches up and scratches his head. "If you go back, and let's say, a man dies that had not died in the original history, what happens to the family he never has a chance to start. He dies so he never marries, and his children are never born, and the children's children, and so on down the line? Do they never exist? Or the reverse, someone survives that died in the original history...do you see what I am saying, Jamie? I am afraid I do not have those answers for you."

"The first question is, can I really change history by going back? Can I make a difference?" I ask to no one and hug Claire tightly to me.

"Let move on, shall we? I think we should make for Prestonpans and Falkirk. They are early battles and the Scots soundly defeat the British and General Cope. Maybe we can learn something there that will help win here," Randall suggests. We find the car and drive away.

We stop for a quick lunch in a small tavern, although I do not have much appetite, outside Perth and make Prestonpans by mid afternoon. There is not a lot to see. That's where having a man like Randall with us, makes all the difference. He talks us through the issues and the battle. We stand on the high ground the Jacobite held. We can see the bog and past that to where the British were encamped. He tells Claire and I how the British were caught completely unaware when an young lieutenant, who was raised on a local farm, knew a way through the marsh that separated the foes. At 4 am, the Jacobite crept through the fog, cross the bog on a small path, and attack the unaware British at dawn. 300 British soldiers died and only 30 Scots.

"This first confrontation was pivotal to the Jacobite early successes. It help raise the Jacobite numbers from 2000 men to 6000 at their strongest." We walk back to the car and decide to drive back to Edinburgh and find someplace to stay the night. Randall says he comes often enough that he kens a small, homey Bed and Breakfast. We drive there and find the matron, a Mrs. Rose, has two rooms available and will serve us tea in the Library, when we are ready. Randall and I will share a room. Claire is just across the hall.

Claire steps into her room and I follow and place her overnight bag on the bench at the foot of the bed.

"You look worn out, Sassenach. This day has been hard on ya, aye?" I ask. I am worried for her. I ken what see'n the Fraser Clan marker did to her heart. It did the same to mine. Though I am not afraid to die; I am afraid to leave Claire.

Claire says, "Absolutely No Regrets, Jamie. None. If I had the choice, I'd do last night all over again. To have you for one night is worth a lifetime of separation rather than never having you at all." She placed her hand on my cheek and kisses me. "Please know that. It's just knowing that you might be one of the 2000 lost lives, in that field, under that rock..."

It just about tears my heart from my chest to see the look on her face. "Maybe a hot bath, like Frank suggested last night, might help ya feel better. Then we can find someplace to have supper. And maybe a wee dram or two..." and I smile at her. "If ya want your tea, I can bring it up to ya and you can have it while ya soak."

My wee fierce Sassenach will not let this make her sad and says, "I just need a half an hour to freshen up. That's all. I will meet you and Frank downstairs for tea, I promise." She pushes me out of her room, into the hall and closes her door soundly behind me.

Randall and I wash and go downstairs to wait for Claire. Mrs. Rose's daughter, Millie seems to ken Randall verra well. When she comes in with the tea tray she stays and sits and chats with us. I examine Mrs. Rose's very poorly stocked book shelves, unless you happen to be like my sister Jenny, and like Gothic and Romance novels. What is it with women? Knights in Shining Armor, damsels in distress and duels. I shake my head and click my tongue.

I, instead, choose to look out the window into the back garden. They have a handsome, large, black dog. I open the door and walk out. I am enthusiastically greeted by the great beast. He comes to my waist when standing on all four feet and has the head the size of a small horse. He has a long, black, shaggy coat, a happy tail and ears that perk up when you whistle. He must weigh a third more than Claire; he must be 10 stone at least. He scampers off, comes back with a hefty stick in his mouth and drops it at my feet. I throw it. He runs, fetches it, bringing it right back and dropping it at my feet. I must throw it a dozen times, before he finally lays down, rolls over and allows me to rub his belly. He is beautiful.

"He's what's called a Newfoundland. They are from Canada. Water dogs. Search and Rescue mostly. They are sweet and gentle. Almost look like Lions, don't they?" I turn and see Claire. She walks over bends down and begins to scratch behind his ear. "He is lovely. Frank's friend says his name is _Stormy_ and he is 3 years old."

I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. I like it when she wears it down. All those lovely curls about her face and down her back. She has to wear it up when she is at work, in a bun, she says. I do not like her beautiful hair all tied up where I can'na see it. It is a little short, only just passed her shoulders. If I were staying I would ask her to let it grow longer.

She looks over at me, pats Stormy on the head and then stands up. I wipe my hands in the damp grass and stand up as well.

"You look very nice in your new kilt and shirt, Jamie. The sweater was a good choice, as well. That blue looks very nice with your eyes; makes them stand out. They are the deepest blue I have ever seen. A girl could get lost in them," Claire says and straightens the sweater's collar. "You look very dashing, I must say." She turns and walks back toward the house.

Claire has on a verra bonnie dress. It is red and fits her well in the bodice. The top is cut low enough I can just see the tops of her breasts. The skirt is full and Claire makes it swing as she walks away from me. Such a lovely plump arse. I run past her to open the door for her. She nods her head and smiles at me as she walks inside.

Once inside, she turns to Frank and says, "Are we really having tea? I think I'd like something a little stronger, if I may. Would you be a dear and pour me something?"

Frank smiles, nods his head. There is a small bar. He pours Claire a scotch, neat, walks back and hands it to her. He looks past Claire, at me and smiles. "Can I get you one as well, Jamie?" I nod and in no time I have a glass in my hand as well.

Claire walks up to Frank's woman friend, Millie, extends her hand and says, "Hi. I'm Claire. A friend of Frank's. Have you met my friend Jamie yet?" She turns and holds out her hand to me. I walk towards her and take hold of her hand, turn and smile at Millie. I turn to Claire and say "Millie and I have already been introduced. Frank made the introductions when Millie brought in the tea things. Millie's mam is Mrs. Rose. She helps her mam with the Bed and Breakfast. She kens Frank because when he comes to Edinburgh to do some research or lecture, he usually stays here." He turns to Millie, smiles and says, "Have I got that right, Millie?"

Millie smiles back and says, "Perfect." She does not remove her gaze from me. She verra obviously looks me over from head to toe. "I like the kilt. Most men don't wear them anymore. You seem comfortable in it. Do you wear one often?"

"Every day. Almost since the day I was born," I respond and smile back at her.

"Oh?" Millie says. "What is it you do exactly, that allows you to wear a kilt to work then, may I ask?"

"I am a farmer. Though for awhile I was a soldier. Now I am on my way home." I reply. "Claire and Frank here, are helping me get home."

"Really?" Millie comments. "Then Claire is not your girl? You're single?" and she quickly shifts her look to Claire and back to me.

Frank walks up and puts an arm around Millie's waist and answers for me. "Jamie and Claire are newly into their relationship. Leave them be, Millie. Get your things and we'll walk down to _The World's End_ and have drinks and some supper. My treat." Frank winks at me, turns and watches Millie walk out of the room.

Supper is wonderful. The pub serves dishes I ken well. Rabbit stew, fresh bannocks, pigeon pie, lamb shank, roasted potatoes, and my favorite, oyster stew. My mouth waters.

During the meal, Claire laughs and asks, "Do you eat any vegetables at all, Jamie?"

I shake my head, wrinkle my nose and make a choking face. "Never," I reply. "Love fruit, but no vegetables, except maybe carrots."

"Carrots? Is that is because you are part horse?" Claire asks and smiles. "You say you can talk to them. I'd like to see that."

Randall and Millie decide to stay at the pub and listen to the band. 'The band' is a group of musicians playing together, although I do not recognize any of the instruments. There is a singer but I can'na understand the words to the song. The 'microphone' makes the music verra loud. Once, I was hit on the back of the head with an ax and now do'na really appreciate music the way I use ta, so Claire and I choose to walk back to Bed and Breakfast. It is a beautiful night. The streets are busy with people, quickly and quietly making their way home. We hold hands and walk slowly. Words are not necessary. We come to a park and Claire and I find a bench and sit.

"Tell me about your life at Lallybroch," Claire asks.

I am always happy to tell her about my life, when she asks. Lallybroch would be one of my favorite subjects. I babble on and on, not realizing, until I see Claire shiver. She has on a sweater, but it is not keeping the chill of her. I stand up, remove my coat and drape it over her shoulders. I hold out my hand to help her up but she shakes her head 'No' so I sit back down next to her, closer than before, put my arm around her and pull her in tight, next to me. She lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. I lean back and look up at the stars.

"See that one?" Claire asks as she points to a set of three stars. That's _Orion's Belt_ or _The Three Kings._ The three stars are Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. When I was a young girl, one of my most precious memories, is leaning against one of the pyramids, at what ever site my Uncle was working at, and looking up into the heavens. Lamb can name them all; probably taught them all to me, I am sure at, one point or another. I have forgotten most of them now. When you are gone, Jamie," and Claire's voice hitches as she speaks, "I will look up and find _Orion_ and imagine that somewhere, where ever it is you are, that you are doing the same, and that we are still connected." She grips my hand that is intertwined with hers a little harder.

"Will you let me kiss you Claire? I want to verra much." I almost choke as I speak the words.

My Sassenach raises her face to me and offers her mouth in reply. And we drink from each others lips like two nomads of the desert, finally finding an oasis in each others souls.


	10. Chapter 10 - Road Trip

" _ **Nnnooooo**_ _" I sit straight up in the bed and wail._ _ **"No,**_ _no no no no no no no..." I repeat in an effort to shake off what I think just happened, and I throw back the bed covers. "_ _ **JAMIE! Nooooo,**_ _please,_ _ **No,**_ _"_ _I howl in a voice that I hardly recognize as my own. I run to the door and pull on it, hard. It won't open. I can't get it open. "_ _ **JAMIE**_ _," I scream. I have to find him. I need to know. "_ _ **JAMIE**_ _," I scream his name again and I yank on the door harder. It won't budge. I am panicking. I need to see him. "_ _ **JAMIE**_ _!" I am screeching now. I just need to touch him; I need to know that he is alive and to make sure he is real. Please don't let him be a dream, I pray. Don't let this all have been a dream. He has to be real. I hit the bloody door hard with my fist. I hear Frank call my name. "Claire," he says from the other side of the door._ _ **"Noooooo. JAMIE!**_ _PLEASE Jamie...be real," and I place my forehead against the door. "Jamie, please." I whisper and start to cry. Suddenly my prayer is answered. I hear him. His voice. It's Jamie on the other side of the door. "I'm here Claire," he says. Finally, the door opens and I am in his arms. He holds me tightly to his chest. I instantly feel better. I can hear and feel his heart pounding. I can smell him. I put my arms around him, put my hands on him. I can touch him, feel him, feel the warmth of his skin. "I am right here," he tells me. "I have you now. I will not let you go. I have you," he says and he strokes my hair to soothe me, to calm me. My warrior is real. He is not a dream. I start to breathe again._

I am in Claire's room. She is in my arms. She is trembling but has stopped screaming. My back is to the door. I hear Frank tell people to go back to their rooms. He is sorry everyone's sleep has been disturbed. Everything is fine. She's just had a bad dream. She was scared by it. Take her downstairs Frank tells me. I'll get some scotch from Millie and meet you in the library. I have Claire in my arms and I take her downstairs. Away from prying ears and eyes. And then we are in the library and I set Claire down on the settee and kneel in front of her.

"A dream, Jamie. I had a dream about you." Claire starts to tell me, frantic with fear. Her hands keep stroking my face, like she does not believe it is really me. "It was Culloden, I am sure of it, Jamie After the battle. I was there, walking the moor, looking for you. I found you," she adds, laying her still hand upon my cheek, looking at me for a moment with such fear in her eyes. "I found you, lying there, bleeding and then you died, Jamie. You died in my arms. Oh Jamie." and she wails and starts to shake. I sit next to her on the settee, pull her back into my chest and hold her while she tries to stop shaking. Tightly. I remind her to breathe, to just breathe.

"I ken, Sassenach," I tell her. "I was right there with ya, I was having the same dream. We were sharing the dream, maybe. You found me after...when the battle was over. I do not ken what ya were doing there or how you found me among all those bodies, but there ya were, my wee fierce healer. You found me in all that chaos." I hold her tightly to me for I need her as much as she needs me. I need to touch her to calm my own racing heart.

Suddenly she pulls away from me, out of my arms and grabs my face in her hands. "You're real, aren't you?" She does not ask but demands an answer. "Flesh and blood. I didn't just dream you or make you up, did I?" She sounds almost angry when she asks. She is my healer once again as she starts to frantically run her hands over my body. "You were hurt," she tells me. "Bleeding. From the head," she adds, as if she just remembers, and begins to run her fingers through my hair, feeling for wounds she cannot find. "Your hair was matted with blood, it was dripping onto my...on my...oh, I don't know what I was wearing but it was covered with your blood."

"It's me, Claire. Bone and flesh, I promise ya." I say to try and reassure her. I try to gather her back into my arms but she slaps the air to keep my arms at bay.

"You aren't a ghost like Frank saw in Inverness last year, are you Jamie? You promise you are real?" She reaches over and pinches me, hard, in the arm.

"Ouch Sassenach! Why did ya go and do that?" I ask in a voice with filled with hurt mixed with a little anger. I stand up, move away from my healer. "Cac, Claire, that hurt. Look, ya've gone and left a mark. Why in the world would ya pinch me? What did I do to make ya so mad?"

"I was making sure you were real. That this isn't still a dream." She says and looks down at her hands. "I'm sorry but I had to know."

"It's alright Sassenach. I still love ya," I tell her and I sit back down beside her rubbing my arm where she pinched it. I reach over and pull her back into my embrace.

"In the dream there was a man lying on top of you, Jamie. He looked just like Frank. Was that Black Jack?" She asks with caution in her voice.

"Aye, Claire. That was Frank's ancestor Jonathan Wolverton Randall." I say and shake my head.

"He was dead, Jamie. I pulled him off you. I did not want him touching you, not anywhere near you. He was there to kill you, wasn't he?" She asks.

"Aye, he tried." I responded.

"There was another man. You were holding him in your arms. You were crying for him, weren't you?" she inquires gently. "Who was he?"

"My godfather," I reply. "Murtagh Fraser. I guess he did'na go to France after all. He stayed and fought beside me. Protecting my right. Took Randall's blade that was meant for me. He gave his life for me, Sassenach. So that I might live. And then that British soldier, with his bayonet; one swift motion and I was done for." I said with sadness in my voice.

"It was a terrible gash in your leg the bayonet left you. I tried to stop the bleeding but I couldn't. You had a nasty gash on your forehead that was bleeding pretty badly as well. There was nothing I could do, Jamie. Nothing." She starts to cry. "I cradled you in my lap and could only watch in horror as you died, Jamie," and my Sassenach crawls into my lap, places her arms around my neck, buries her face in my hair and let her tears flow. "Oh Jamie," she sobs.

"I was look'n up at the heavens when ya found me, Sassenach. I was searching for _Orion_ so I could be with ya in the end. And then there ya were, right there, holding me, telling me ya loved me." I tell her.

" _Orion_ ," Claire repeats in a whisper. "So we would be connected in the end..." and it felt like a gentle rain down my back.

"Ssshhhush, Sassenach. Do na cry. It was only a dream. Hush now. Sssshhhhush," and I gently rock her and whisper my heart to her in Gaidhlig.

I look up when I hear Randall clear his throat.

"I brought your tartan, thought you might want to put something... 'em... to cover your back. You know, in case someone comes in...I don't think you want to, 'um, have to 'um...to explain your back..."

I look at him, questioning...?

"Upstairs while you were trying to calm Claire. Your back was to me. I could not help but see," Randall explains.

"Then I thank you for your kindness, Frank. If I lean forward can you place it around my shoulders, like a woman's shawl? Then I can wrap it around Claire so she does not become cold." Randall does as I ask. When I wrap my plaid around us, my Sassenach pulls her knees up and feet in and burrows into my chest and sighs.

"Millie said it would be alright to throw a couple of logs on the fire, if we want," Randall says as he sets the bottle of scotch down on the table in front of me. I will go outside and get a few and we'll stoke this fire. Be right back, I'll pour us all a drink and you two can tell me what the hell just happened up there," and Randall left the room.

"You are awfully quiet Sassenach." I say to the motionless form cocooned in my arms.

"I suppose. My heart is still pounding. But I am better now that you are holding me. I missed you tonight. I had a hard time falling asleep, without you near, to hold me. I missed your scent. Is that silly?" She asks me.

"I do'na ken if it is silly or no, but, I missed you the same. I was laying in bed just staring at the ceiling. Trying to stop thinking about you, so I could sleep. Sooner I slept the sooner day would come and I would see ya again." I say to the top of her head.

"Did you try counting sheep?" Claire asks.

"Counting sheep? Why would I count sheep in the middle of the night Sassenach? And just where would I be find'n sheep, in all of Edinburgh, to be count'n anyway? You say the most daft things sometimes," and I kiss the top of her head. "But I love ya all the more for it," and I laugh softly and lay my cheek on the top of her head and breathe the scent of her. I sigh. I would die a content man right now.

We sit quietly. At peace in each others arms. It is enough. Randall returns with a couple of split logs and Smokey. While Randall works at rebuilding the fire, Smokey comes to investigate Claire and I. He is gentle and places his head on the arm of the settee rather that placing it on Claire's inert form. I think Claire wants Randall to think she is sleeping. Her heart beat has slowed and her breath is steady, repetitive and warm on my neck. Her body feels relaxed in my arms. But her fingers are stroking my chest under my plaid, out of Randall's sight. I scratch Smokey behind his ear and then he walks away. He is curious as to what Randall is doing.

When Randall is done, with a nice blaze going, he walks over, pours three stout whiskeys and walks over with two.

"Claire's asleep." I say to him but I'll have one and I take it from his hand. Not a particularly good whiskey, but I need a drink just the same. The dream scared me but Claire's screams are why I need the drink. It might take more than one to settle my thoughts.

"Does speaking Gaelic work on everybody like that or just Claire?

"I don't ken everybody. Only Claire. But talking to her in Gaidhlig seems to calm her, soothe her. Relaxes her enough that she can sleep." I tell Randall."

"I did not think that Claire understands Gaelic." Randall states as if he knows it for a fact but he is trying to find out if I ken.

"No. No Claire does not understand any Gaidhlig that I can tell. It is more the tone and inflection of my voice that soothed her. Gaidhlig has it's own rhythm when spoken aloud. I use it when I break horses, as well. It calms them, makes a spooked or nervous horse relax and feel they can trust me." I speak using the same reflective tones on Randall. I notice it does'na work so well on him. I smile. If I had na had such a bad experience with his relation, I might actually like this man.

"She was certainly terrified and your voice was all it took to calm her." Randall said as he watched me from a chair next to the fire. "Sorry, I could not help but overhear some of what you and Claire said to each other. I was not trying to eavesdrop." He said with an apologetic tone. "I heard you tell Claire the dream was about the battle at Culloden."

"Yes, Claire and I both agree, it was the battle on Culloden Moor. I understand why I would dream about it, it worries me that Claire did. She can'na save me from my own fate and in the dream, she tries." I say to Randall.

"You know perfectly well why she tried. She loves you. Any idiot can see it every time she looks at you. I don't know why, or how, she has only known you, what 3 days? You know I've known Claire since she was 12, that's 26 years. She was traveling the world with her Uncle Lambert when I first met her. Fiercely independent, even then, and headstrong. She was ordering the lackeys around like a Corporal. Lighting her uncle's cigarettes, making sure he had proper meals and got enough sleep. Helped him catalog and ship artifacts. I never saw her need, or want, anyone, for that matter. That is until now, until you came along." Randall is speaking from his heart. He is trying to tell me, in a loon sort of way, that he will always love her but that he understands she had chosen me and he is na happy about it. He looks at me with a combination of confusion and jealousy.

"I have to try and go back if I can, Randall. You ken that. That is why you agreed to this trip, aye? So I would go back because I now have information that might make a difference. Not because Claire offered ya a supper of your own choosing, although I am sure ya can'na wait for that either. I can'na ignore the information you have given me. I owe it to my family, to my clan, to try and change this history. I can do no less. Understand that I have made a vow to Claire, I will try and return to her when my work is done. I have never met another woman like her. She is a wee fierce, fiery thing and when we touched, that first time, we both ken, there was no one else for either of us. Fate has brought us together but our faith in each other will keep us joined. Even though we may be separated in body, through time, the dream shows the connection is in our souls. I believe we will always find a way back to each other. She was made for me, as I was made for her. She is my match." I stop and give Randall a chance to understand what I have just said and then I add, "I ken you will be there for her after I am gone, and in the chance I can'na return to her, I know she will have you to look after her. I just want you to ken how verra grateful I am for that and how I hate you to my bones for it as well. It will make my heart easier when I go, it must be said. I could not leave my Sassenach with just anyone. I thank ya for that Randall, I truly do."

"I will continue to do, what I have always done in the past and that is to be there for Claire, to offer help, watch over her and to hope that someday she will want me in return. I make no bones about it" Randall makes me that promise, or threat, and then clears his throat. He has something else on his mind, I can tell. "I heard Claire talk to you about a dead body she pulled off you. That he looked just like me. You said it was Jonathan Wolverton Randall. You realize we are related. He is my 7 times removed great grandfather" he states calmly.

"Aye, if only from the fact that ya look just like him. Close enough that ya might pass for him except your mannerisms are different. Ya ken that's why I attacked you that first night. I was protecting Claire from Black Jack Randall." I state. "Your kin is not a kindly man," and I give Randall a look that is worth a thousand words. "Black Jack Randall, Captain of his Majesty's 8th Dragoons, was indeed a man with a dark, haunted soul. He is responsible for the marks on my back. Flogged at Fort Williams when I was just 18; 100 lashes with a cat-o-nine tails and then as soon as the Fort's surgeon allowed it, 100 more. Laid down with such furry, all because I spurred his advances. Damn near killed me. It killed my father to watch it. I now have a price on my head, for a murder which I did not commit, all because of your kin. I am wanted for murder because I said NO to being buggered by Black Jack Randall. Your written history does'na tell you any of that, does it?" and I look at him to see if he believes me or not.

The look on Randall's face tells me all I need to ken. He is horrified. But he believes me. Frank Randall had served in the same World War as Claire. She said he did not fight in battle, that he worked for 'MI6', espionage Claire say it was. That is a totally different kind of battle; not swords, eye to eye, hand to hand combat, meeting your enemy on a field and fighting for your cause. Espionage is like a game of chess; mind games – moves and counter moves. Anticipating your opponents thoughts and maneuvering your men. Intercepting messages and solving the riddle of them, 'decoding' Claire had called it. Important work, aye, but not honorable. Ya can'na ever talk to anyone about it, it is all so secret. Espionage is filled with horrible things. Ya never ken who ya friends really are.

I can see Randall feels badly about what has been done to me but he is not sorry. I think his training has taught him to only tell partial truths and so that is how he behaves. We both drain our glassed and he pour us each another.

We speak briefly about tomorrow's schedule and the Randall stands. "Do you need my help with Claire? Getting her upstairs to bed?" he asks.

"I think we will just stay here until she wakes on her own. My poor wee Sassenach had quite a scare. I will let her sleep a little longer. Can you leave the scotch, please? Where do I place Smokey when we go upstairs?" I ask. I am eager for Randall to leave me to my thoughts.

"The dog sleeps in the kitchen. Just put him in there and close the door. Can you bank the fire?" Randall is stalling. Why?

"Aye, I have banked a few fires in my day," and I look up at him. "It's the electric candles that confuse me," and I smile.

Randall looks surprised and then gets my wee joke. He kicks at the carpet in an attempt to stall leaving. He hand me the glass of scotch and raise his to me. "To Claire" I say and down my drink in one swallow. I look back at him and place the glass, rim down on the table. I'm done I am telling him. Go to bed.

Randall raises his glass to me in response to my toast, takes a small sip, sets the glass down and leaves. Finally.

"I thought Frank would never leave." a voice whispers from inside my plaid. "Do we have to go upstairs?"

I laugh. "Did ya sleep at all or was it all just a wee trick?" I ask her.

"I never fell asleep. Pretty good, 'eh? I used to fool Lamb all the time and after he fell asleep, I'd sneak out of my tent and do all kinds of things my uncle would never let me do, if he ever knew." she said as she crawled off my lap.

I rolled my head and neck, stand up and shake out my legs to relieve the cramps. "I love ya Sassenach, and that lovely round arse of yours, but ya are heavy, aye?" And a pillow from the couch hits me in the head. I turn and see the merriment in those beautiful whiskey eyes. "Do ya want a drink?" I ask as Smokey comes over and places his head in Claire's lap.

"Yes, please. A rather large one would be nice. Oh, someone wants his ears scratched, I think." She says and begins scratching behind the dogs ears in earnest. The look on the animal's face says it all. Heaven.

I pour us both a drink and I say, "here's to the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever beheld. Slante." I take a long sip.

Claire holds her glass up as her face turns red at my toast. "I love you too" she says in reply and takes a drink. "Did you really mean everything you said...I mean about us being connected and that the connection might travel through time? Do you really think that I might dream what you are experiencing when you leave?"

"I don't ken. Maybe. If we shared one, we might share more. Mrs. Graham might know, but I don't think even she has experienced the kind of connection we seem to have Claire. I think what we have is verra unique. Different. We will just have to trust and believe in each other and get through this, aye? I will come back to you. Trust and believe, if I can, I will. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I must go. The dream we had, it changes nothing. I know it scares ya. It scares me also. But leave I must, if I can." I look her in the face as I say the words I ken she would rather not hear.

"So we continue our journey. If you are going to go back, you will have every piece of knowledge Frank can give you. You will go back armed." and she stands, walks to me and kisses me on the lips. We are done drinking and we are done talking.

Morning finds the three of us on the floor, in front of the fire. Only two of us wrapped in my plaid. Silently, I ask myself why was Claire in my dream? Was she there to bring me peace in the end? Or was I in her dream and then why was Claire at Culloden?

We are back on the road by 9am. We head to Falkirk, a memorial, which is a rather large grave marker with a 'plaque'. Randall says the cannons are what need to be stopped; stop the cannons, stop the battle basically. We discuss the lay of the land, Jacobite strategies and new, possible advantages.

We are back in the car, jolt'n down the road in less than an hour's time. Next stop Wentworth. Still in surprisingly good shape, considering it's age. Frank leads us on a full tour. Fort Williams was for local disputes, skirmishes. Wentworth is a Prison. I have never been inside any Prison before. I can safely say, I hope I never do. Cold and dark. The chains on display look real enough. A shutter runs through me. Randall gives me a basic tour. He kens I'll never remember everything but I have a basic floor plan in my head when we leave. He says this will be where most of the captured outlaws are sent that are to be hanged, prior to Culloden. Since I have a price on my head, if I am caught, this is where they will bring me. Claire's hand grips mine tightly as we complete the tour.

We stop for a late lunch at a tavern in Dumfries then continue North, passed Glasgow, through the Trossachs National Park and on to Fort Williams. This fort I ken. It looks like I remember it, complete with the Flogging Platform and Post. I climb the steps slowly and touch the ring that held my chains and looked down to see if any of my blood still stains the wood. It is silly; that wood has long ago rotted and been replaced. I still remember the cell I was held in and Randall's office though the furnishings are not the same. I've had enough of this place. I want to leave and we do.

We make Beauly by nightfall and find a tavern with two rooms. We have dinner downstairs, and although my stomach speaks it is hungry, I do not feel much like eating. Oyster stew and fresh bread. Claire and Frank banter back and forth a bit, and leave me to my thoughts. Claire places a hand on my thigh in quiet support. When the meal is done, I tell Randall that I think I will stay down in the bar for awhile, have another ale before I come up. Claire says she will stay but I send her upstairs, to her room; tell her to soak in a bath, that I will be alright. I will stop by her room before I go to sleep. She kisses me on the lips before she turns to leave. Two lads at another table yell to Claire to come give them a kiss before she goes as well. I turn and look at them. They both hold their hands in the air and say, "Jesus man, we were just kidding." Frank offers to keep me company, but that is exactly what I do'na want. I do, however, ask him for the coins he has in his breeks pocket. He gives me a look of confusion and then hands me the coins. When Claire is up the stairs and out of sight, I walk over to the two lads that howled at her and ask if they have a deck of cards.

Two am the tavern closes. The barkeep gives me a glass of scotch to take back up with me to the room. He leans over the bar and thanks me for teaching the lads a lesson and shakes my hand.

Claire opens her door as I pause in front of it before I continue the walk down to the room Frank and I are in. I smile at her. "Are you alright, Jamie?" she asks. "I know today was really hard on you, especially Fort Williams. Do you want to come in and talk? I will be happy to listen."

"No. I am good. Did ya have your wee soak then?" I ask, although I notice she is still in the same clothes she has had on all day. I hand her the glass of scotch and she takes a drink. She does'na return it.

"No. I was waiting for you." she says with a smile on her face.

"Claire," I start. "Ya ken I want ya. We agreed, just the one night. Last night was in a open room and we just cuddled. And we had Smokey as a chaperon. I won't disrespect ya or soil your reputation by com'n into your bed chamber now, so late at night. So, No. I'll be go'n back to my room with Randall. I just wanted ta bid ya Good Night and give ya a sip of my scotch." and yet my feet do not move.

Claire reached out her hand, takes mine and I walk into her room; she does not even have to pull me. She closes the door and bolts it, behind me. She goes into the bathroom and runs the water. She points to the bench at the end of the bed and says, "Sit". I do as she commands. She hands me back the glass of scotch, kneels and removes my boots and socks. Then stands and removes my sweater. She steps back and says, "Now go in that loo, remove the rest of your clothes and get in that tub, do you hear me? When you are in the water, let me know and I will come in, sit on the floor and help you finish that scotch. I have put bubbles in the water so I will not see anything." She pulls me up and then pushes me toward the loo door.

I do as she tells me, and when I am safely in the tub, I tell her so. Claire does exactly as she said she would, she sits on the floor with her back to the tub and we talk. The water feels warm and relaxing, and, after awhile, I sink down so only my head is above the bubbles. I close my eyes, let my mind relax and just listen to Claire tell me about nursing school. I place my hand on the edge of the tub and start to run my finger up and down the two inches of the top part of her arm that is above the tub edge. I hear her sigh; it is one of my favorite noises that my Sassenach makes. It means she is happy and content and likes what I am doing. I sit up and slide down so that I am even with Claire only I am inside the tub and she is outside.

"Kiss me Claire." I demand, not ask. And she does. And the next thing I ken is that Claire is in my arms, in the tub, naked and I am sighing. How does she do that? I say I'm not going to kiss her and in no time at all, that is exactly what I am doing – Kissing her. 3 nights in a row. She is a witch. My wee witch and she is my hearts desire.

I pay for the rooms. I pay for breakfast. I pay for the petrol for the car. I give Randall back his stake and then a wee extra for the 'tabs' he has picked up on Claire and my behalf. It is nice to have a wee bit of coin of my own, if I do say so myself.

"Where did you get all this money, Jamie?" my Sassenach inquires.

"I won it, fair and square, in the bar last night. The two lads that spoke to you so rudely, needed to be taught a lesson. So I taught them one. The Barkeep said he was glad I did. Randall lent me the stake, though I do'na think he ken it at the time."

"I gave you the what?" Randall asked looking at me like he had done something wrong.

"Lent me my gambling stake, as I had no money of my own." I remind him.

"Claire, I promise you," Randall squirms in an effort to defend himself to Claire. "I did not give Jamie any money in which to gamble with. On my honor." Randall shot me a look that could kill.

"Ya did to, ya wee liar," and I shot him the same look right back. "I asked ya for the coin in your pocket and ya gave it to me, right before ya went up to the room."

"Claire, I promise you," Randall starts again. "I had no idea that's what he was going to do with it. He asked me for my change. I gave it to him. It could not have been but a couple of pounds. I thought he was going to buy another beer. That's all."

"Quit squealing to Claire about it, Randall. Ya got your money back, and then some. I just played cards with 'em. All perfectly proper. The barkeep was there the whole time. They were both just really bad at cards. Others came and went as well, it was'na just the two lads that lost." I smile, my first real smile since I have arrived. Claire looks, sees and can'na get mad at me. She turns sideways in her little seat, leans up against the back of mine, drapes her arm over my shoulder, down the front of my chest and gave me a hug. She lets her head rest on my shoulder and gently kisses my neck for the next minute or two or hour...I just close my eyes, lean my head back and let her.

Did ya ken cars have wee music boxes in them? Randall's does. Claire has a lovely voice, if Randall would just be quiet and not try to sing with her. He has a terrible voice; it would make dogs howl.

We do a quick stop by Beaufort. It is everything I have ever heard about it. We walk the grounds and the stables as well as the inside. I have no fondness for it, just curiosity because my father was born here. I have no memories of it. We are back on the road in a little over an hour.

Leoch. Castle Leoch. Home to my mother, 2 brothers and 3 other sisters. My Uncle Colum MacKenzie is Laird. His brother, my uncle Dougal MacKenzie is clan chief. My mam is dead. The only surviving Aunt is Jocasta and she lives in the Americas. The castle, their home, is in ruins. I would hardly ken it. I even check with Randall to make sure this is right. I do'na recognize any of it from the outside. The stables are gone. The well is gone. The court yard has no familiarity to it. I lead them through the corridor to the kitchens. Yes, I can see Mrs. Fitz there barking orders to the staff, but no one will ever cook there again. The Great Hall is gone. That part of the castle has collapsed. Colum's rooms were right above it. Randall starts down a corridor and down some stairs. I have never been down here. It ends with a door. Randall can'na get it open so he and I throw our shoulder into it and it opens with a 'pop'. Down another flight of stairs into almost a cave. "The Beaton's Surgery," I say as I look at the wall of shelves and small cabinets. There are still several large tables as well as a large fireplace.

"What is a Beaton?" Claire asks.

"Not a what, but a who." I reply. "Beatons are a family, well ken for their healing abilities. Since my Uncle Colum fell from his horse at age 12, his legs have always given him trouble. He always had a healer in the castle to help him manage the pain. This is where the Beaton would see other patients, when my uncle did not need him, of course."

Randall just stands there staring at me. "I know you've told me, and I have believed you. But for you to stand here and talk about this Castle like it was, the routines of it's daily life and the people that inhabited it. It's mind boggling. Jamie, you have been here, seen this castle, living and breathing. Alive in its heyday. What a opportunity for me as a historian. What a unique gift for me. Will you tell me more, later of course, when we get back to Inverness. I have so many questions."

"Aye, I'll tell ya whatever ya want to hear about." I tell him.

We are back in the car and head for Ardsmuir. "It is no longer a prison," Randall says. "The military uses it now. After Culloden, they took any survivors to Wentworth to await speedy trials and very public hangings in London. Those that fled and were found, if they were prominent traitors they also followed their predecessors to Wentworth and public hangings. But a small select few, mostly small fish, were sent to Ardsmuir. Over the years, as stragglers were captured, they were brought here to Ardsmuir as well. It was an unfinished prison when the British first started using it after Culloden. At its maximum, it probably only had 200 prisoners. There is a rock quarry not to far from here. The prisoners probably cut, carried the rocks and built some of the prison walls. They are 6 feet thick in some spots. The prisoners probably cut the peat from these bogs that was placed on the fires. The prison needed only a handful of guards. You can not tell it today but, with deep ocean water on two sides and then all this land is mostly boggy moors, a prisoner might find it easy to just walk away, but there was no where to go or to hide. They were probably re-captured right away." We were not allowed inside the prison, but seeing it ran a chill up my spine. I did not like this building, this prison.

"We will be home in 2 hours," Randall said when we left. And true to his word, we were. Exhausted. Randall dropped Claire and I off outside and we walked up and into the flat. No Lambert. Claire found a note on the kitchen table. He left dinner for us in the oven and a couple of cold beers in the fridge. He will not be back until tomorrow morning. His friend is in town. Claire and I look at each other and smile. Claire turns the oven off and takes out what Lambert calls 'Chicken Pot Pie'. Neither Claire nor I ken what that is, but it smells good. We eat and drank and laugh and touch. We forget about Culloden. We wash the dishes, put the leftovers in the fridge and wipe the table and counters down. And then hand in hand, we walk back to Claire's room, only stopping at the loo long enough to brush our teeth, take our shoes off, climb on top of the bed's covers and, with just my plaid to cover us, fall fast asleep in each others arms.


	11. Chapter 11 -- Finding Murtagh

Breakfast. I love breakfast and I am exceptionally hungry this morning. Sleeping well has that effect on me and I sleep well with my Sassenach in my arms. I sigh, a deep audible sigh, of contentment. My lovely Sassenach, and what a sight she is this morning. Claire, with her beautiful nest of curls, all wild about her face and her bonnie, round arse right there, ready for me to caress, has served me a bowl of porridge, with honey, while she makes ham and eggs and toast for me. As I said, I am hungry. And coffee. I like it with cream and sugar; light and sweet, Claire calls it. I am almost finished with my porridge as Claire sets the plate of eggs, ham and toast down on the table. I reach up and gently touch her cheek with my hand, in thanks. She leans down and places a kiss on my lips. I push my chair back away from the table. I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her into my lap and deepen the kiss.

"Honey," Claire whispers as she licks her lips and wraps her arms around my neck. She kisses me again.

I hear a noise, a shuffle of feet, and look up to see Lambert enter the kitchen in his pajamas and robe. Claire immediately jumps from my lap and backs into the counter. She and I exchange questioning looks. His note said he was not at home last night, that he was with his friend. I never went into the bedroom to put my travel bag away; it is still on the floor in the hallway where I left it when we came in. I never thought to check the room. "Cac," I say out loud and under my breath.

I nod at her, in indication that I will speak to Lambert about us and watch as he sets his newspaper down on the table and pours himself a cup of coffee. Lambert drinks his coffee black; this morning he adds cream and sugar, like me. He does not utter a word to either Claire or myself nor does he make eye contact with either of us.

"Would you like some breakfast Uncle Lamb?" Claire asks as she looks at me and nods her head toward her uncle.

I nod my head again and clear my throat. "Lambert," I start...

"A piece of toast would be nice," he interrupts. "Since you ask, my dear, if that would not be too much trouble." He sits down at the table, opens his newspaper and begins to read. "Did you two sleep well?" he asks as he glances over the top of the paper, directing his gaze at me. I am more than fair at reading a persons face. That's why I am so successful at cards. Lambert's face is a puzzle to me. His face shows he is none too happy about Claire and I, but his eye's, they tell a totally different story. They show merriment, that he is pleased about something.

I turn red. As red as my hair. As red as one of Claire's poisonous tomatoes and choke on my fork full of eggs. I am embarrassed for Claire, more than for myself. This is Claire's uncle, her guardian. I have dishonored him and brought shame to Claire. Forget my own shame. I have taken his niece, made her my own without declaring a word of my intentions to him. I should be ashamed, but I am not. I do not deserve to look the man in the eye, but I hold my head up and look back at him despite that. I should not have taken Claire before marriage and certainly would not wed her without his consent, but I will not be ashamed of my feelings for her and hers for me. I will explain all this to him, make him listen. I will make sure he understands. I will wed Claire before I go, if Lambert wishes it.

Claire, as if she has heard my thoughts, puts down the pan she is cleaning and comes to stand beside me, placing her hand on my shoulder in a show of solidarity. She gently squeezes it to reinforce that support and offers courage as well. "Lambert," I start again...

Lambert, now, gives me his full attention by setting both his coffee cup and newspaper down on the table. He leans back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest and says, "Yes, James?" It is then that I notice the start of a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

The sly fox...Claire and I have been set up. Played. He has wanted us together, for whatever reason, this whole time. He was in his room all night, quietly waiting for our return. He ken the hour of our return would be late, that we'd be tired and hungry. He left the note and the food and let Claire and I take care of the rest. He gambled that I would not even go into the bedroom he and I shared. He ken I'd sleep with Claire if he was not there. Praise God, Claire and I had gone right to sleep and made no ruckus. We had just laid in each others arms, happy to be there with each other, instead of separate rooms. Neither of us waking until the sound of birds chirping and the early morning's light came through her bedroom window. Why? It is so clearly obvious to me, now, that he wants Claire and I together. He has hinted at it before. Why would that be something he desires? He could not think that she would never find someone to love her, to marry her, surely? Although the thought of her lying with anyone else angers me, I ken Claire is a smart and beautiful woman, verra desirable. Randall alone, meets the qualifications and he desperately chases Claire's skirts at every available opportunity. So why then has Lambert done this? Is it in an effort to find Claire a husband? Would he arrange for us to be caught in a compromising situation, just so I could be made to wed her? That's where this trail leads to but, no, that makes no sense, no sense at all. Lambert is up to something. I smell a really bad fish.

"I want you to ken, Lambert, that I..."

Lambert coughs. It is a forced cough. He does not need to clear his throat, he just wants to interrupt me. He takes his glasses off, puts the lens in his mouth, one at at time, and breaths hot air on them. They fog up. He then takes his napkin and starts to wipe the moisture away. When he is finished, he places the glasses back on his face, adjusts them and then places his hands on the table, fingers interlocked. "As you were saying, James..." and he again looks directly at me, no glance toward Claire. Well, he is right. It is my fault. I allowed this happen. Even though my intentions started out honorable, I bedded his niece like she was a common whore. I deserve his displeasure, his wrath.

Claire has been busy at the counter. She turns and starts to set a plate of toast next to Lambert's coffee cup. Instead she moves his cup and picks up the newspaper. She then sets down his plate of toast. She begins to read the paper. I thought she was helping me. I look at her as if to say, 'put down the damn paper and help me here', but she never looks up.

So I try again. "Lambert, I ken you understand that it has been less than a week, but in that time Claire and I have grown..."

And NOW Claire interrupts me. "Jamie." she says. NOW she looks directly at me.

I look and her, in confusion, nod my head at her, turn back to Lambert and continue, "...Claire and I have grown verra fond..."

" **Jamie** ," Claire says with a little more force. "Jamie..."

I stop, AGAIN, and look at her in frustration. What is it with Beauchamps and interrupting people while they are talking..."Claire, I am trying to have a discussion with your uncle now." I open my hands, palms facing upward, and gesturing toward Lambert. "Can it no wait, please?" I ask then I turn back to Lambert and begin yet again..."I have grown verra fond of Claire..."

"Jamie, you need to see this. Now. I think the talk with Lamb can wait. Please." she says to me. I look up at Claire with frustration clearly showing on my face. Lambert looks at me and then to Claire. Claire steps back and leans against the counter directly behind her. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes squinting in thought, and a look of confusion beginning to settle on her face. She looks up at me and says, "Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser is your godfather, yes?"

"Aye," I say and look back at Lambert, and try to start again. I then realize, I have only told Claire my godfather's first and sire name, not any names in between. How did she ken FitzGibbons? I look back up at her.

There is Claire, holding the newspaper, in front of her with both hands. "This is the man from my dream, Jamie. The one you were holding in your arms." she says and I am looking directly at a picture of my godfather's face. _Do I know this man?_ The newspaper asks in print above the picture. I grab the newspaper from Claire's hands and stare at the face. It is him. I'd recognize the auld codger anywhere. How did he end up with his picture on a newspaper printed in 1946? I look back up at Claire, my mouth open in shock. I can not find my voice.

Claire sits at the table, takes the newspaper from my hands and reads the article.

 _Do you know this man_

 _Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser?_

Then there is his picture. Not a very happy face, but then my godfather never smiles. For any reason I ken of. Claire continues to read...

 _Found in the woods just outside city limits on Monday October 27 by two hikers. He was found, dressed in period clothing and carrying weapons. The man claims he is from 1746 and has fallen through the Stones at Craigh na Dun. He is currently being held on the Psychiatric floor at Culduthel Hospital. If you or anyone you know recognizes him, you are asked to please contact Doctor Weaver at 44.7947.6195 or your local police._

"Jamie," Claire says. "Jamie."

"This is my godfather, Claire. My godfather is here? Really here?" I say in complete and utter disbelief. I take my eyes off the newspaper and look at Claire. I can hardly believe it. Did he follow me, come looking for me? I smile. A great, big smile and breathe a sigh of relief. I am not alone.

Claire is smiling, ear to ear as well, for me, for my happiness. "Yes, Your godfather's here, Jamie. In Inverness. In 1946. We need to get dressed. We need to go to the hospital and have him released. We need to bring him home." she says. "Back to the flat," she quietly corrects herself as her face drops. "He must be scared to death in there, Jamie."

I stand up and grab Claire in my arms and swing her in a circle. She laughs for me, is happy for me. "My godfather, Claire. My godfather is here. We are going to go and get him." I can not stop smiling. I set her down and kiss her hard on the lips. "Thank you Sassenach." I say. In two bites, I finish my eggs. I take the ham and place it on my toast and eat it as I pick up my travel bag, walk down the hall to the bedroom to dress. There is a lightness to my steps that has been missing since I arrived. I ken I am smiling; a large, daft grin is stuck on my face. Murtagh, my godfather is here. I can hardly believe it. I close my eyes and say a small blessing in thanks. My godfather somehow came through the Stones and is here in Inverness in 1946. And Claire and I will fetch him and bring him back to here to the flat. Home. And suddenly I realize, I have not been alone since the moment I met her. There has been the two of us from the beginning. I totally forget my conversation with Lambert and do'na even realize that I am changing my clothes in Claire's room. "Murtagh, I am coming." I tell Scotland as I yell out the window. Claire and I are going to get him. Together.

 _I sit at the table next to my uncle. I take his hand in mine and look at his loving and gentle face. He has a smile on his face. He has been my family since I can remember, my teacher, my guiding light through out most of my entire life; his is responsible for the strong, independent, tell it like it is, woman I have become. How, now, do I tell him that in less than a week, Jamie has replaced him in my heart. No, not replaced but Jamie has certainly usurped him. "I love him, Lamb." I tell him. "My darling Lamb, I have finally found the one; Jamie is the one I have been waiting for. He is my heart and my soul," I tell him and lay my hand gently upon his cheek. "It all happened so fast, I really can not remember a point in time since he arrived that I have not loved him. From the moment I walked into the kitchen and he looked up at me with those soulful, blue eyes, dripping water on my kitchen floor. With just a look and a touch, not a single spoken word, and I was his, Lamb. Body and soul. Like I had been hit with cupids arrow. I'd do anything for him, if he asked, Lamb. if Jamie had wanted it, he could have taken me right there on that wet kitchen floor that first night and I would have welcomed it, relished it. You know I have spent my whole life, waiting and kissing lots of frogs in an attempt to find my prince, my soul mate. Jamie is the one, Lamb, he is my soul. Please do not be angry with him. He stood strong. He refused_ _ **my**_ _advances. Said "No". Said it was not honorable to take me before wedding me and he could not, would not, wed me because he was leaving. He said it would dishonor you, dishonor me to wed me and then leave me. Jamie said that he was bound by duty to return to his time. He says he cannot stay, even though we both know it means certain death for him to go. Lamb, I had to know, to feel what that kind of love is like...'tis better to have loved and lost, that never to have loved before', right? He gave me the one night I begged him for. I would not trade that one night for anything, Lamb. Jamie will leave tomorrow before dawn and I will never see him again; never feel his touch, smell him or hear him, again." A tear slides down my cheek and my uncle stands up and pulls me into his chest and I softly cry. "Please Lamb, you can not say anything to Jamie. I can not ask him to stay, though my heart wants me to throw myself at his feet and beg him to do just that. Jamie must do what he has to do. He must make his own choice." I look up into my uncle's face pleading for him to not say anything to Jamie. He nods his head and hands me his handkerchief._

Claire and I catch the bus to Culduthel Hospital, which is where she works. We take an 'elevator', which is a large metal box, with doors that open and close, that goes up and down to different floors so you do'na have to climb the stairs. Verra strange. I do'na like it much. It reminds me of being on a ship, makes me a wee sick in my gut. We take the elevator up to the fourth floor and walk to the nurse's station. Claire recognizes the nurse on duty, though she says she does not ken her well. The nurse, Claire says, does have a bit of a reputation, but my Sassenach does not elaborate. Nurse Ratched hands Claire papers that we need to complete and says she will page Doctor Weaver when the paperwork is complete. Claire quickly finishes the paperwork and gives it back to her. I can not sit. I am fidgety, like a wee laddie with toads in his breeks. I am pacing and keep looking through the glass in the door to see if I can find Murtagh.

"Nurse Ratched...Rachel," Claire starts. "Would it be possible for us to wait inside and visit with Mr. Fraser until Dr. Weaver becomes available? My friend is very worried about his godfather. They have been separated since late Saturday night and he is very anxious to see him. I will stay with them, if that will ease your mind any."

Claire is speaking to the nurse verra calmly. Gently. The same tone I use on her. It is working. The nurse comes out from behind the window, unlocks the door and allows us in. It is a large room with tables and chairs, a couple of settees and a large radio that is playing music. I scan the room. There are over two dozen men here. They all have funny striped shirts on and slippers, no breeks. And when one turns around I see that he is naked underneath and the shirt has a long tear in the back. Tied ribbons are the only thing holding the shirt closed. Several men immediately walk toward us. They all have unlit cigarettes in their mouths and ask us if we have a light.

Claire calmly replies, "No, I'm sorry, we don't. We have no matches." and all three walk away from us.

Another single man approaches and says to me, "You are very tall. Are you John Wayne?" and then turns and walks away as well. This is a strange place, the psychiatric floor; everybody here seems to be a bit loon. Finally, I find my godfather. I'd ken him anywhere, even without his arse show'n. He is in the far corner. Standing in front of a window staring out. I whistle. My godfather goes ridged and lifts his head. I softly whistle again and Murtagh's head whips around and he sees me. He entire body turns around, and his very dower face starts to grow a grin that ends up ear to ear. It seems to take me forever to cross the room and envelope him in an embrace.

I release him and grab both his shoulders, give them a firm shake and say, "A charaid," in a choked voice, then I grab him back into a hug. The only words my godfather has is my name "Jamie" over and over again, in disbelief.

Finally, when we separate, Murtagh gently slaps my face and leaves his palm resting on my cheek and asks, "Is it really you, Jamie? Is it really you?"

"Aye, Murtagh. IIt's me." I say but my voice still cracks with joy. "What happened to your beard and hair?

"Jamie, they held me down and shaved me. Then they cut my hair off. Can you believe it?" His face was full of anger, but he kept his voice calm and quiet. "Ya can'na loose your temper in here. They will sit on ya, poke ya in the arse with a pointed pin, that must be magic because, it makes ya go to sleep in not time. See those two _glaikit goons_ over there dressed in white, and he nods his head toward the door Claire and I entered...they are the ones that hold ya down, and then that _slursach_ in her shift and a wee white hat on her head shoves the pin in your arse. Sometimes they give ya some sort of magic bean they make ya swallow that does the same thing." He shakes his head. "Where have ya been? Did ya come through the stones after me, then? Have ya come to break me out of this prison? Is your Uncle Dougal and the rest of the MacKenzie with ya? Are they wait'n outside? I've missed ya something awful, laddie."

I don't think his smile could get any bigger. I grab hold of his arm and then turn my sights to locating Claire. She is still by the door speaking to the nurse and the two men in white. Our eyes meet and Claire turns to the nurse, says something and then walks toward me.

When she reaches me, she asks, "So it's really him? This is your godfather, Jamie?"

Murtagh has turned and looks at Claire with suspicion, when she first starts to speak. He looks to me for an explanation. It's her Englishness Murtagh is questioning.

"Murtagh, this is Claire, Claire Beauchamp. Claire, may I introduce my godfather Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser. Claire's uncle found me walking in the rain the night I arrived. He took me back to Claire's, his niece, as he lives with her. I had been shot in the skirmish with the British soldiers and I hurt my shoulder, as well, when I fell through the Stones. Claire is a healer and fixed my scratches. It is to her home we will be going to when we get you out of here."

"Aye?" Murtagh says and looks Claire over from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. "Well, I am grateful to you for having taken care of the lad, when I was not able to."

"It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Fraser," Claire says and holds out her hand to shake his.

"A Sassenach, Jamie?" Ignoring Claire's offered hand. Murtagh raises an eyebrow at me, "A friend ya say? Or maybe a wee more?"

"Aye, I call her more than that a charaid, but Claire will do for now until we have a chance to speak." I tell him and shake his shoulder again. The three of us walk back to Nurse Ratched.

"Would it be alright if we accompany Mr. Fraser back to his room to help him change his clothes and gather his things?" Claire asks. Nurse Ratched is in the middle of explaining why she can'na allow this, when Dr. Weaver comes through the door.

"Claire Beauchamp, as I live and breathe. You are a sight for these old sore eyes. What brings you to the 'Psych floor? Thinking of transferring, dare I hope?" he questions as he shoots a look of frustration at Nurse Ratched. "We'd love to have you..." the Doctor says and give Claire an embrace much too long for my liking.

"Dr. Weaver, it is wonderful to see you again, as well. No, not transferring, sir. I still really enjoy the work in the ER. We are here about Murtagh Fraser. We saw the article in the paper. My friend, James Fraser," and Claire lightly places her hand on my arm and continues, "is Murtagh Fraser's godson. We have been looking everywhere, since we returned from a short trip and discovered him missing. We are so grateful that he is safe. We'd like to take him home, if that would be alright." Claire stops talking and gives Dr. Weaver one of her prettiest smiles.

"That's odd, the police have said that no one has filed a missing persons report. That's why we decided to run the picture in the newspaper," Dr. Weaver, looking slightly confused, states.

"We were off to do that verra thing this morning when we happened to read the paper. We came here straight away, instead." I quickly add and pat Claire's hand which is starting to grip my arm.

"Mr. Fraser," Dr. Weaver states, as he turns and faces Murtagh, "Do you know these people?"

"Aye," Murtagh responses. "At least I ken the lad. Jamie is my godson, after all. I'd have to be daft not to recognize him." Murtagh laughs. Claire and I go a little tense when my uncle uses the word 'daft'.

"You don't recognize Miss Beauchamp, Mr. Fraser?" Dr. Weaver asks, looking a little concerned.

"My godfather has no met Claire until just a few moments ago," I answer.

"Oh?" Dr. Weaver mutters in an acknowledging response. "Oh. Well, Mr. Fraser, if you would like to go home with your godson, then we'll get the release paperwork started. In the mean time, if you would like to go back to your room, change clothes and collect your things...that would be fine. I'd just like to talk to your godson for a few minutes, if that would be alright." Dr. Weaver says. "Mr. Fraser, why don't you have a seat over there" and he nods at a chair by the window, "and Mr. Fraser...oh that is a bit confusing isn't it...Murtagh, if I may call you that for the sake of clarity, if you will wait for your godson over there, please. James, if you will allow me to reference you by your first name as well, if you and Claire will come with me, I would like to go over some things with you before Murtagh leaves us. Follow me, please." and he turns to walk off the ward.

I turn to Murtagh and place a hand on his shoulder. "I will no be gone long, a charaid. I will be back before ya ken it and then we will leave together, aye?"

Murtagh shiftes back and forth from one foot to another. I can tell he does not like that I am leaving through the door he kens will lock behind me. I squeeze his shoulder and shake it lightly. "I will be right back. On my honor."

Claire steps forward and lightly kisses Murtagh on the cheek. She whispers something to him, that I can'na make out but it makes Murtagh look her in the face and smile. I take Claire's hand and we turn and follow the Doctor back out the doors.

Once in the Doctor's office, he states, "Your godfather was in pretty good shape, physically. He did have lice and fleas, but we have managed them. We had to shave his beard and cut his hair for those reasons. He gave us a pretty hard time about both. He has shown some hostility toward staff and fellow patients during his short stay with us. We had to sedate him several time to insure compliance. You understand, Mr. Fraser?

Claire nods her head so I mimic her. I rub the top of her hand I am holding with my thumb, to thank her for all of this.

Dr. Weaver continues, "Do you live with your godfather, Mr. Fraser?"

"Aye." I answer. "We are new to the area, that's probably why Murtagh became lost. He is not familiar with Inverness. We are staying with Claire, Miss Beauchamp and her Uncle, until we make other arrangements." and I feel Claire squeeze my hand.

"Oh, well that does change things." Dr. Weaver says, wiping the concern off his face with a smile. "Claire, is a wonderful nurse, one of the best this hospital has ever had. I would have no reservations releasing Murtagh to you, with the understanding that he will be under her watchful eyes." He actually breathes a sigh of relief. "Your uncle's behavior is a little concerning. While here, he claims he is from 1742. That he "fell" through the Stones at Craig na dun. You can understand why that would concern us."

"How very odd" Claire says. "Yes, they will be staying with me until things become settled. I will accept full responsibility for Mr. Fraser's care while they remain here in Inverness. When I am at work, Jamie will watch his godfather, very carefully, I can assure you. Murtagh is in good hands, Dr. Weaver."

"Well, I am glad to hear that." Dr. Weaver states. "You know when he was found he had two swords on him. Quite old according to the Police. Museum worthy, they said. He actually attached one of the responding officers with it. Mr. Fraser said he was not afraid to use the weapon to defend himself."

"Ooch," I say in response. "I will have a wee talk with him when we get him home. Maybe we should hide that bottle of scotch, eh Claire? The swords are old ones, from our family, handed down from father to son."

Claire smiles weakly and nods her head.

"Just where are the swords now?" I ask.

"Oh, we have no way of keeping such weapons here at the hospital, as Claire can tell you. They are at the police station. You can go by and pick them up, I assume." the doctor adds.

"Weel," I say as I stand up. "I'd like to get my godfather back to Claire's if you don't mind. A good soak in the tub and a hot supper might help rejuvenate his soul, I should think. Where are his clothes and I will help him dress and collect his things, if Claire, you would please finish the necessary paperwork, aye?" I give her the sincerest look of gratitude I can muster. What would I have done without her?

I go back through the locked ward doors, carrying Murtagh's clothes. One of the goons in white takes Murtagh and I back to his room and then leaves us. "Where have ya been Jamie?" Murtagh asks in a whisper. "When I woke up it was dark and raining. I called for ya, but no answer."

"Not here Murtagh. Wait until we get back to Claire's. We can talk about it there, aye?" I whisper to him. "Are you hungry?" I ask.

"I could eat a horse." he says.

"No horse, but ale and steak and kidney pie I think I ken do." It is good to see Murtagh smile.

"Are ya gon'na tell me about the English lass as well? Why don't ya do that while I change, my wee lad." Murtagh says. "Something tells me, even though I have been here the whole time, I have missed a great deal. Claire, aye? Bonnie, verra bonnie indeed. Start talk'n Jamie."

We take the stairs. No time to explain the elevator to Murtagh and I don't want to scare him. Finally, we exit the hospital. Our own wee little clan of three. I take Claire's hand in mine as we follow Murtagh to a nearby patch of grass. He stretches his arms out wide and turns his face to the sun, a rarity unto itself, and allows the light and it's warmth to embrace him. "God, I hope never to be imprisoned in that damn place again. You say you work here?" he asks as he turns to Claire.

I smile and pull her tightly to my side. "Aye, that she does, Murtagh. She is an amazing healer. I have a lot to tell ya; to explain and show, some verra wondrous things. Let's go get ya something to eat and drink and then we'll take ya home."


	12. Chapter 12 -- Murtagh Arrives

Murtagh

I heard the metal beast first before I saw it. A loud growling sound unlike any I have ever heard before made me jump and turn. The mere site of of the great smoking beast caused me grow roots where I stood as I watched it charge straight for us and neither Jamie nor I with a dirk between us. This great green and white closed wagon bore down upon us; it's face like nothing I had ever seen before. It had two large sulfur colored eyes glaring down on me, like the great water horse, from the stories of my youth, out on land. A large windowed forehead with a man, clearly being eaten, in it's mouth. It's shinny metal mouth and teeth smiling as it approach, knowing I would be it's next meal, having no yet finished eating the one it's started. It made a horrible rumbl'n noise and then squealed, like a pig, when it stopped. Truth be told, it scared the e'ffing Jesus out of me. This sassenach, and Jamie, showed no fear of it at all, as it approached, nor when a panel slid aside, opening it's great belly. With no hesitation at all, Jamie and Claire just walked up the steps and into the beast's mouth as I stood fixed in the grass like I was stuck up to my knees in a bog. Jamie had to come back for me, calling me out of my stupor, smiling and extended his hand, motioning for me to follow him. Jamie called it a 'bus', a 'horseless carriage'. As I entered I ken I was going to be eaten alive. The beast closed it's large gaping mouth behind me and continued it's search of prey.

I sit on a bench in the belly of this 'beast' with my mouth pressed shut. My lips are a thin straight line, white from being squeezed tightly together, to keep me from wag'n my tongue. Jamie, my verra own godson, said for me to be silent until we got to where we were go'n as we left the 'prison'. That did'na mean I could'na or would'na watch and listen.

"Dinna fash," Jamie told me and squeezed my shoulder in comradery. He said that everything would be explained when we got back to the Sassenach's home. He would answer all my questions, even if it took all night. He'd better no be tired then as I had a great many questions for the lad. Like where the ifrimm'n hell were we, te start with, aye? So I was silent, silent as the grave. I would bide my time.

First, what the _ffrumph_ Jesus was go'n on? I clench and unclench my hands as I work this morning's events through my heid. Jamie finally comes to get me and he has this lass in tow. "They found me" Jamie said. _**They**_. Said he did'na realize I had come through the Stones until _**Claire**_ showed him a 'picture of me in the newspaper' whatever the ' _iffrin_ that meant. Jamie said she works there, at the 'Hospital'. _**She**_ kens those people and made it possible for him to get me out. If she works there, she's one of them, aye? And her be'n a sassenach ta boot. _**British**_ , the verra word tasted bitter in my mouth. But Jamie seems to trust this lass, they seem to have a bond, and I trust Jamie, with my life. I will keep quiet and bide my time.

Jamie said Claire is 'a nurse', a healer that's why she works at the Hospital. That might come in handy with the lad and his propensity to get himself into a stramach without much effort. As big as Jamie is, ye think that men would leave him be, but more often than not, a loon with too many drinks in him will come and try to start a fight with the lad. When he can, Jamie will turn the other cheek, but more often than not, it comes to blows. And Jamie's Uncle Dougal, Angus, Rupert and the rest of the MacKenzie muck will jump in and before ya ken it, whatever tavern we happen to be in is broken to bits.

Claire is bonnie, verra bonnie indeed. I can see what Jamie sees in her. She looks like a lass but had the makings of a woman, what some people would ken as an auld soul. She seems a kind, caring sort and she's look'n at Jamie the same way he is look'n at her. There is more go'n on between them than either is say'n, that for certain.

Claire must have ken I was upset when the doctor asked to speak to Jamie privately in his office, which is located on the other side of the locked door. Claire placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek, in attempt to calm and reassure me, before she and Jamie left with the doctor. I was verra nervous, almost shaking with the thought that Jamie would leave through the locked door and be unable to return for me. She seemed to sense this fear and took a moment to whisper in my ear that they would be right back; promising that Jamie and she would not leave here today without me. I quietly released the breath, which I did not realize I was holding, and I felt the tight grip on my heart ease a little . I will no say I like her but, but British or no, I will speak civil to her as she is responsible for my release and the healing of my godson as I quietly bide my time. I look at her and give her a weak smile. She pats my arm and leaves with Jamie and the doctor.

Just sit'n here watch'n Jamie's face and I ken he's fallen for the lass. Hard. Since they arrived at the 'prison', Jamie has hardly taken his eyes off her. They are latched on to her like a blue eyed hawk that had found it's prey. Last time I saw a man look at a woman like that, Brian, Jamie's Da, laid eyes on Ellen for the first time, in the Great Hall at Castle Leoch. The verra next night they had run off together. I shook my head. I was no want'n te deal with that along with everyth'n else going on. If Jamie was over the moon for this Claire, just like Brian was for Ellen, Jamie would na be go'n anywhere without Claire. I clearly notice that she finds favor with Jamie as well. Well of course she would, the lass would have to be daft not to fancy Jamie. But right now is not the best time to be woo'n lasses. Certainly not while Jamie has a price on his heid. Just how many ruddy days have I spent in that _ffrumph'n_ prison? I will have to have a talk with Jamie about Claire when Jamie is done talk'n te mw. I will bide my time in silence. Hurrumph.

I do'na think I really remember anyth'n until I was in...what had the Sassenach called it, a 'Hospital', whatever the _shite_ that was. A prison is what I'd call it, though it was na kept by British Soldiers in Redcoats. These guards wore white. They stripped me of my clothes, shaved my beard, cut my hair, made me stand under a strange waterfall and clean myself, with soap no less, and even poked me in the arse with a real shape needle, muttering someth'n about kill'n something they called 'germs'.

I can'na remember a time I was more glad to see Ellen's boy, as when he walked into the large open cell that held me and about 20 other men. Came to take me home he said, only we were going to the Sassenach's house na Lallybroch. On the 'bus', Jamie and this **Claire** sat on the bench beside me. My bench faced the windows of the far side of the 'bus'. Claire and Jamie's bench sat facing me. I could easily watch them and they me. I had a clear view out the bus windows opposite me and all the strangeness that passed before my eyes. Jamie had a tight hold of her hand even before we left the hospital. It was clear he was never letting go of it. His other hand he kept constant on my shoulder, squeezing and patting it to reassure me that everything was go'na be alright. How the ffrumph was that going to happen? Noth'n made sense. Noth'n was familiar. Where in Judas Priest were we? I sat in silence, biding my time.

The 'bus' stopped occasionally. People got on and people got off, almost all the benches were full with men, women and bairn. As I sat, my eyes scanned the carriage. There were two long benches that faced each other...on each side of the bus. I sat on one side. There were 3 rows of seats facing the way we were headed on my left and 8 benches to my right. Jamie and Claire sat on the first bench on my right, so they are facing me. There is another long bench in the verra back. If I have to sit in this carriage, I must say that at least the seats are verra comfortable. A damn site softer than my saddle; they are nicely padded and covered in leather. Verra nice. Damned if this 'bus' is no the largest carriage I have ever seen in my entire life. Must be 15 paces long. My head ached as I attempted to search for an explanation of what these th'ins were. It would take 10 horses to pull this carriage when it was full of people. They would have to be large horses too, like those Percherons Jamie and I had seen in France, not some Gentleman's pleasure horses. Yet we were mov'n without any horses that I could see. My eyes flitted from the dozens of horseless carriages that passed by us to the verra clothes these people were wear'n. Out in public too. The women, even this Claire, all with their skirts torn show'n all of their leg, from the knee down, just like the lasses in the 'hospital'...I shook my head. Unfathomable. Jamie tried to hearten my resolve by whispering explanations of the things that were coming into view, in Gaidhlig. It did help keep the panic from my throat but deep down, my gut was churn'n. I dinna utter a word.

"First we needed to go to the police to get back your weapons, Murtagh" Jamie said.

I nodded my head in affirmation. Aye, I certainly needed my dirk, sword and sgian dhu; I could'na walk around unarmed in a place such as this. The men in blue uniforms that had left me at the prison had taken them from me. They had even found the sgian dhu hidden in my boot. I can'na be without them for long. It feels wrong. I feel naked without them. I can and will remain silent.

While we were in France, I had heard about a man that flew above the ground in a basket by capturing hot air. Even though Jamie and I had been in France, I had never actually seen it. Maybe that's where we were, France. No, not even Paris was this strange. At least in Paris the Frenche's dressed appropriately, though a wee too frilly for my taste. London perhaps? I'd never been to London, but I had heard some pretty daft stories and the British were a verra strange lot. I had heard of a Englishman that had built an 'engine' that used steam to pump water from copper mines; I dinna ken what steam is but I was told ya make it by boil'n water and I ken do that just fine. Another Englishman used a bell to breathe while walk'n under water. I can'na even imagine how that would work; a single man would'na be able to carry a church bell by himself, no even a small one. It made sense that there would be other strange contraptions but this was an entire village filled with odd sights and things I dinna understand. Nothing I saw since I woke up by the stones made any sense ta me. It was all beyond anything I could imagine. Made my heid hurt.

Maybe I was deid and the 'hospital' was my purgatory. Jamie must have died too. That made perfect sense...when my horse went down and now, as my angel, Jamie has come back to collect me. I will see Ellen again, and Brian, of course. "That's it, I'm deid", I muttered softly to myself. It must have been loud enough for Jamie to hear for he squeezed my shoulder. But, somehow, I ken I was'na.

I leaned my head against the glass window behind me, closed my eyes and tried to remember how I ended up here. As ill luck would have it, Jamie and I had ridden into a band of MacKenzie men; surprising Jamie's Uncle Dougal and his men steal'n cattle. Jamie had thought it might be best to go back to Castle Leoch and lay low with his Uncle's while we figured out what our best move was. That verra night, with Dougal and the poached coos, we rode right into an ambush of British Redcoats.

I closed my eyes again and remembered...Jamie's horse had gone down. The lad had been nimble enough to keep his leg out from under the beast when it fell and had scrambled to his feet. I'd be damned if I'd leave Ellen's son; Jamie was entrusted into my care and protection by Ellen herself. I was no gonna leave him behind to be captured by the 'iffrin British Soldiers, especially with a price on his heid. Ellen's very own brathair, that Bastard Dougal, had led them right into the midst of an ambush with 30 head of stolen cattle. Fhalbh! I had circled back and was attempting to pull Jamie up on the back of my horse and get us the Hell out of there and as far away from Dougal and the soldiers as one horse could possibly carry the two of us.

Just as Jamie was try'n to climb up, my horse lost its footing on the rain slick rocky ground. The horse stumbled and both Jamie and I were thrown from the damn beast. I still had a good grip on Jamie when my other hand hit one of the Stones, breaking my fall, and everything went black. The last thing I remember was the sound of bee's buzzing. That makes no sense because it was full night and bee's do'na fly at night. Maybe the bees had a nest in the stone I hit; it had a large crack down the middle of it. When I came to, the sun was just beginning to set and I found myself in the middle of a brier patch. Cut myself up pretty good trying to work my way out of it too. I'd lost a complete day by my figur'n.

How'd I come to be in the briers to begin with? Maybe Jamie hid me there while he went for help. And when the lad came back a couple of days later, with help, I was gone and it took Jamie this long to track me. That's it. This thought makes me smile.

Once free from the brambles, I had no trouble finding that large stone again. I could see it from the bramble bushes. As I approached, I realized the large one with the split down the middle was surrounded by 6 or 7 other large stones, forming a circle. A circle made of Stones, all twice the size of Jamie. All on top of a bloody hill, on the edge of MacKenzie land, in the middle of Scotland. What fae built that, and why? And that loud buzzing started up again the moment I walked inside that circle and I saw no bees. It made a shiver run up my spine and I quickly stepped back out. I wanted noth'n more to do with those bloody stones. I needed to find Jamie and get the hell back to Lallybroch. I'd had enough of Clan MacKenzie.

I had'na found Jamie yet, but ken he would be hiding, somewhere near water. All I needed to do is find the closest source of water. As I walked away from the stones and it's hidden buzzing bees, I scratched my head in thought. Where were the others? The MacKenzies? Surely they would not leave Jamie on his own. Where was Jamie's fallen horse, or my horse for that matter? They must be here somewhere. I would look for the horses while I looked for Jamie. Water. That was the key. Finding water. And somethi'n to eat. I needed to be canny, keep hidden and then get out of here before the British patrol returned. I quickened my pace. I had a goal, a purpose and I strode toward it full force.

I had stayed near the water for 2 days, waiting for Jamie to appear. I carefully checked the area both days for signs of Jamie and the horses. I walked both up and down stream looking for tracks. The mud left by the rain should have made the tracking easy te spot but there was no sign of either. It suddenly dawned on me, that maybe I was the one that had been left. Maybe Jamie could'na find me and had left. I was na familiar with this area. This was MacKenzie land, the lad had grown up here, living with his uncles for a year. He ken the lay of the land. I did'na. I ken Lallybroch was west of here and to the north. I would head in that direction. I had some coin. Perhaps I could barter for a horse and I could catch up with Jamie.

I found a trail easily enough and set out on the morning of the third day. That's when I met with the first pair of strangers. Two men, dressed in strange breeks, lace boots, wool coats with odd sacks tied to their backs. They had laughed when they saw me, asked me if I was lost and someth'n about a 'reenactment'. I asked them which direction Inverness lay and they pointed me down the trail, so I ken to walk in the opposite direction – that would be the way to Lallybroch.

I kept to the woods for as long as I could. Eventually I had to come out. I had reached a trail, unlike one I had ever seen before. Black as night and hard. It was going in the direction I wanted to walk so I stuck to the edge of it. Made the going easier as I did not have to fight the underbrush or use my sword to cut my way through. That's when two soldiers in black uniforms found me. They came from behind. They climbed out of a strange box on wheels. Now I think about it, it was just like this 'bus' only much shorter. The two men approached me.

"My partner and I are with Police Scotland. Do you need help sir?" the tall one asked. "Are you lost?" At least by their voices I ken they were Scots.

"Tha mi air chall. An urrainn dhut mo chuideachadh?" I asked. _I am lost. Can you help me?_

Both men looked at me then at each other. "Do you know what he just said?" the shorter one asked the taller one.

The taller one shrugged his shoulders and said. "Na, but I ken it's Gaidhlig. My grandda stilll speaks it. Been trying to teach me for years. Then they both turned back and looked at me.

"Do you speak English?" the taller man inquired.

"Aye, I speak English. You mean to tell me two Scots do'na have a word of Gaidhlig between them?" I threw back at them in astonishment.

"Look sir, I am Officer Ross and my partner is Officer Reid with Police Scotland. Someone called into the station and said someone were wandering alone out here and might be in need of a bit of help. We have come across you out here in the middle of nowhere. Now, are you lost? We'd be happy to give you a lift back home or back to town, maybe from our office you could call someone. Family? Friends? They could come pick you up.

"Can you tell us your name, sir or where you live?" the short one inquired.

I did'na want to start a stramash. "I'll be fine," I said and I started to back away. "I can walk from here."

They moved toward me. "Stop," the taller one said. "We can not leave you out here alone. Come now, give us your name and tell us where you live, and we will take you home. You look like you have been out here for a couple of days already. Perhaps your family is worried for you. They might already be looking for you."

I kept moving backwards, never taking my eyes off them. I did na want to draw my weapons if I did'na have to. I needed to get back to the woods. I would be able to loose them there. That's when I fell. There was an edge to the the black path and I miss stepped when I stepped off the path. Both men fell on me in the blink of a eye. They flipped me on my stomach and had tied my hands behind my back before I ken it. They helped me to my feet and the shorter man took my dirk and sword. They had not found my sgina dhu, safely hidden in my boot. They placed me in the back of the horseless carriage and took me to 'the station'. From there they took me to the hospital, where they bathed me, shaved my beard, cut my hair, fed me and gave me a sharp poke in the arse with a needle. A shutter ran through my bones as I remembered.

When Claire announced we were at our stop, she and Jamie stood up and made their way back the way we came in. Jamie smiled and motioned for me to follow. Out of the beast's belly we emerged and into the sunshine. The beast closed it's mouth and took off in search of more prey. That beast must have an upset whammy because it left a nasty stink in its wake.

Suddenly I look up and see where we are. 'Police Scotland' read the plaque beside the door. Jamie said they would get my weapons back and so here we are. We walk in the door and an hour later we walk out with my weapons. Jamie and Claire work well as a pair, I will say that. I did as Jamie bid, like a bairn, I was seen and no heard. When we stepped back out into an overcast sky, my stomach started to rumble.

Jamie laughed and said, "Why did you not say you were hungry, Murtagh? I think we could all use a meal and an ale about now, aye?"

I nodded my head and patted my stomach. "Aye, I'm fair starved. And if I'm hungry, you must be light heided by now" and I lightly punched Jamie in the arm and smiled for the 2nd time since I had woken up in the briers.

"Clachnaharry's is a great tavern not too far a walk from here. It's right on the water, Beauly Firth. Maybe we can get a table outside, enjoy the view and answer some of Murtagh's questions, Jamie." Claire suggested. "They have great food as well. I am sure you both will like it."

We turn the corner and made it to the tavern door just as it started to rain.

"We were meant to stop," I said as I removed my coat and hung it on the hook beside the booth. Jamie and Murtagh removed their coats as well. The waitress came and I ordered a pitcher of Guinness, a round of Glenlivet shots and an order of chips to start. She left us to peruse the menus. With lunch ordered, libations and snacks in front of us, Jamie and Murtagh began their discussion. I scooted closer to Jamie, so our shoulders touched. He paused in the conversation and kissed me on the top of my head. My hand reached over and touched his thigh and he placed his large callused hand on top of mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. I leaned my head against his shoulder and listened to them speak in a language I was beginning to develop a love for; its very rhythm and sound. I had no idea what they were specifically saying to each other but it did not matter, because I knew what was being discussed. Tomorrow was Samhain. Tomorrow Jamie would leave. I closed my eyes and tried to will myself not to cry.


	13. Chapter 13 - Samhain Part I

Samhain PartI

Jamie and Murtagh are still in deep discussion as we walk home from the tavern. The rain has stopped leaving the air clean and fresh, like a new beginning, and I take deep breathes to clear my head and my heart. There is a crispness to the wind and I pull my coat around me tightly. Jamie, deep in conversation with his godfather, still manages to notice and gathers me under his arm, pulling me against him as we walk. I inhale deeply the scent of this man; the musk his body creates that allows me to recognize him anywhere, even with my eyes closed. Breathe him in while you still can I tell myself.

"Are ya warm enough Sassenach? Is everythi'n alright?" He inquires as he looks down at my face that I have nestled into his chest as we walk. His blue eyes bore into my soul in search for the answer he already knows because it lies in his as well. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. No! Everything is not all bloody right! I don't want you to go is what I want to scream at him. I know we are meant to be together! Christ, you are mine, I am yours, I want to shout at him. I will not share you with anyone. But no, he has to be the bloody King of Men. But I can not utter the words out loud; I can not demand that of him, not now, not ever. He must make the choice, I can not change his destiny for him. It is for him alone to do. I am truly convinced that behind every great man there is a strong, stoic woman. She must be indestructible in order to release her man, allowing him the freedom he needs to perform the tasks of his calling and to sanction his travels, where ever his destiny will take him, leaving his loved ones behind. She must love, protect, care for him and above all else, put her own needs aside in order to help him achieve that which is the very reason he was created. Please, let me be such a woman, strong enough not to fall down on my knees, grab his legs and beg him not to go, to stay with me and his child I know I carry within me.

Yes, I am late. Only four days but I am never, not even one day, late.

I nod in affirmation to his question. I had managed not to cry through lunch, at least no tears that I let Jamie see. Murtagh had raised an eyebrow at me at one point but I just smiled back, took another sip of my whiskey, leaned back against Jamie and closed my eyes again. Now, I dare not speak, least my voice waivers, betraying my breaking heart.

We cross the street to walk through the park. We are almost back to the flat. I stop and turn to Jamie and Murtagh. "You two can stay here in the park and talk, if you like. It's such a beautiful day. I need to run by the butcher to pick up something for dinner. No need for you two to tag along. Pretty boring stuff, really. Any requests? I will be back at the flat in less than two hours."

"Would ye make Bangers and Mash one last time for me, Sassenach? Ye ken its my favorite," Jamie requests with his ever endearing half-smile on his face. "I'll even eat ye poisonous tomatoes..." He stops mid-sentence when he realizes what he has said.

My glass face must give me away. I almost burst into tears right there in the park. I bite my lip to keep from crying. His last meal. Well, his last supper with me...anyway. I close my eyes, gather my courage and open them again. I see the sadness in his eyes. He knows his words sting but it's that this will all end tomorrow morning is what brings tears to my eyes. I make a face by crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue, in a vain attempt to make him laugh, as I wipe the escaping tear away with my hand. I crack a smile as I seek to convey that I'm alright. I can see by the look on his face that I am failing miserably and so I wave him off.

"I'm fine, Jamie. Really. Bangers and Mash it is then," I say quickly, brushing my hand lightly down his arm, turn on my heels and walk away as fast as my legs will carry me without breaking into a run.

"Claire" I hear him call out just the once. I keep walking. I dare not look back.

I unlock the door and enter the flat. "Hello the flat" I call out loudly. "Is anyone here? Lamb?" There is no reply. I reach to place my purse, hat and gloves on the table by the door. I miss and they fall to the floor. I give up, as the tears start to well up in my eyes. I drop my coat on top to complete the pile and run to my bedroom. I lean against the bedroom door, to close it, and that is as far as I get before I sink to the floor and the tears begin to fall. I feel my chest tighten, wracked with pain as I try to suck in air but can't. I have no breath. I can make no noise as the soundless sobs leave my shaking body. I fall over onto my side, curl into a ball and just let go of my checked emotions while my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. I realize just how quickly this man has entwined himself into my very existence. That he has become the very fiber of my being. He is my core. He is my hearts blood. I am quite sure I will die without him; maybe not physically but I can already feel my soul begin to wither and die knowing tomorrow morning may be the last time I ever see him. And just like that, just as suddenly as my sobs began, they end. The solution is right there in front of my face. It is so very obvious. Why had I not seen it before? I know what I must do.

I get up, dry my face and straighten my skirt and blouse. I check my makeup in the hall mirror, retrieve my belongings from the floor and exit the flat. An hour and a half later I am back. I drop the dinner packages in the kitchen and hang my coat up in the hall closet. I lay my hat and gloves on the hall table and then take the garment bag, the rest of my parcels and my purse to my room and lay them on the bed. I smile. I have a plan and it is pure genius.

I practically skip back to the kitchen to begin supper. I stop and switch the radio on and let The Andrew Sisters _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_ engulf the flat as I sing and dance along with the song.

Lamb arrives home first. I am at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes. 5 pounds of them. Jamie can eat 3 pounds by himself. I can only imagine what Murtagh can do. Lamb, lowers the volume on the radio and comes up beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. My head drops and a sob escapes as I realize the ramifications of my plan.

"Claire," he begins. "What can I do to help? Is there anything I can do that would make a difference?"

I turn and look into the face of the man that has been a father to me when, at the age of 5, I was left completely alone when my parents died. He is responsible for the the strong, independent woman I have become. There has never been a subject I could not talk to him about; even the questions concerning my female cycle had never gone unexplained in my formative years. I have always sought his council with every major decision I have ever made...until now. Since Jamie entered my life 5 days ago. Jamie has replaced Lamb in my heart and as my confidant; he completes me. Lamb's face tells me he understands; that he almost expected it and that he is ready to let me go.

I sigh. One of those heavy sighs, filled with relief.

"Jamie is a good man, Claire. He is destined for greatness my friend tells me. Jamie's life has meaning. A greater purpose. He will need you. He will only achieve greatness with you by his side. . I think that is why he is here. I was meant to find him and bring him to you. Claire, my dear, I could not part with you for a lesser man," Lambert tells me and smiles weakly. I fall into his embrace.

"I will be alright Lamb. Do not worry for me. I promise I will be alright." and I kiss my uncle on the cheek.

"Yes, Madonna. You are quite right. Things are correcting. Everything is almost as it should be. There have been a few bumps in the road but the pieces are falling into place. It will be easier to keep you both safe now," a voice I recognize states from the living room.

I turn and see a very short man, with a face like a frog, standing in front of a fire in the living room fireplace, warming his backside. Which, come to think of it, I don't remember a fire being lit when I came into the kitchen. I shake the thought from my head. I know this man. From my childhood. A friend of my uncles. A Frenchman, I think. "Master Raymond?" I inquire.

"Oui, Madonna. Très bien. It is nice that you remember me. It has been a vera long time. You were just a petite fille the last time I saw you." Master Raymond said with a grin.

"Of course. I should have known when Lamb said an old friend was in town." and I turned, looked at Lamb and smiled. "Last time, I think I was 8 or 9, in Egypt I believe. How are you? It is lovely to see you. May I offer you a glass of wine? I remember you did not care for ale or whiskey."

Master Raymond laughed. "C'est vrai, it was Egypt. You were 8 and Oui, I would love a glass of wine, but sadly, I have no time. I can not stay. Your uncle and I must leave. It is, after all, the eve of Samhain and there is much work for us to do. Come mon amie, we must be off. Au Revoir Madonna. We will see each other again vera soon, I think."

"Oh, Claire, tell Jamie his godfather is welcome to sleep in my room." Uncle Lamb says. "I won't be back again tonight" and he winks before he turns to leave.

And just like that Uncle Lamb and Master Raymond are gone. Out the door and by the time I make it to the window, they are exiting the building. Before I pull myself away I see Jamie and Murtagh coming out of the park. I best get the potatoes on to boil or supper will be late.

I hear the flat door open and then close. "Jamie?" I call out. "Is that you and Murtagh?"

"No." Frank says from the entrance to the kitchen. "Just me. I met your uncle and Master Raymond downstairs as they were leaving. Lambert said to come right in, that you were expecting me. Why do they call him Master Raymond, I wonder. What, exactly is he a master of?"

I turn and smile. "You'll stay for supper, I expect."

"I will, if you're asking. This does not count as the dinner you owe me for touring Scotland with Your Rather Large, Red-headed, Sword Swinging Boyfriend, just so we're clear..." and he laughs at his own quick wit.

"Ha Ha" I said and turn back to finish peeling the potatoes. "Very funny."

Who's Murtagh? Jamie's made a friend, has he?" Frank inquires as he leans back against the couch. "Hope this one doesn't come with his own sword," and again he laughs at his own joke.

I hear the door open and listen as Jamie and Murtagh enter the flat, still conversing in Gadhlig. The next thing I hear is Murtagh cry "Randall!" and Frank scream like a small child. Almost before I can even put the potato down and turn, Frank has run into the kitchen, rounded the table, grabbed me from behind and swung me around so that I am facing a very angry faced Murtagh with his sword drawn, approaching with caution. Brave little Frank is using me as a human shield. Nice.

"Murtagh, Stad." Jamie cries, runing into the kitchen. "Chan eil e Black Jack. Cuiribh air falbh mus do chlaidheamh Sorcha gam leòn." _It's not Black Jack. Please put your sword away before Claire gets hurt._

My warrior eases himself around the kitchen table and steps in front of me, coming between myself and Murtagh's very real, very pointy sword. "I ken he looks like Randall. But remember the time is wrong, a charaid. This is Frank. Frank Randall. Aye, he's a Randall, I ken, but no Black Jack. A descendant. He's the one that has told me about Colluden and such. The historian I was explain'in to ye."

And I begin to breath again as I peek around Jamie and watched Murtagh start to lower his sword.

"Tha fios agan nach eil e Black Jack, Murtagh. Faic mara tha e 'falach air cùl Sorcha. Nach eil e saighdears." Jamie said in a soothing voice. _You know he is not Black Jack, Murtagh. Look how he hides behind Claire. He is no soldier._

"Ye Frank Randall no Jonathan Wolverton Randall?" Murtagh asks raising his sword again and pointing it at Frank.

"Yes" Frank and I say in unison. I nod my head several times for added emphasis.

"Give me the sword, a bhalaich" and Jamie holds out his hand. Murtagh hands it to him hilt first.

"The dirk and sgian dhu as well" Jamie adds wiggling his outstretched hand's fingers and Murtagh removes them and hands them over also, with a fair amount of reluctance. Jamie sets them down on the table. He holds up a finger, looks back at his godfather and says "do'na touch these, ye hear me?"

Murtagh nods and gently kicks the table leg in frustration.

"Jesus," Franks utters with a heavy sigh of relief. "How many weapons does one man need to carry? I am surprised he does not have a loaded pistol."

Jamie turns around and glares at Frank. He then takes his index finger and taps one of Franks hands that has my shoulders in a death grip. "Let go of her. Now." Jamie is not asking.

I hear Frank suck in air and both hands almost instantly release me. Jamie immediately places his hands where Franks have been and pulls me into his chest. My arms automatically wrap themselves around his waist and I feel his broad hands glide up and down my back rubbing every vertebrae. Jamie rests his chin on the top of my head and asks, "Are you alright, Mo Neighan Donn?"

I nod my head and, with my ear pressed to his chest, listen to the sound of Jamie's beating heart. His strong steady rhythm calms my own frantic one.

"You took shelter behind Claire, Frank." Jamie states. I can only imagine the dark blue stare that accompanies this truth. I would not like to be on the receiving end of such a look. "Tssst" as Jamie clicks his tongue. "'twas a cowardly th'in te do, Frank."

Sufficiently chastised, Frank walks out of the kitchen leaving Jamie with me. Jamie pulls me away from his chest and with a finger under my chin, he raises my face so that our eyes meet. There is an unsettling calmness in his gaze.

"I am sorry, Sassenach. Truly. I did not mean to hurt ye with my words, before, in the park."

"I know Jamie. I'm sorry I was so sensitive. I don't know what has gotten into me lately. I seem to be so emotional; totally happy one minute and then crying the next. I know you did not mean it the way it was said."

"Forgiven?"

"Forgiven."

"May I kiss ye?"

"Yes, please do." The kiss makes my toes curl. I wish it would never end. And we cling to each other when it is over.

Supper, finally prepared and ready to serve. The table conversation is mostly Frank re-explaining what he knows about Colluden to Murtagh, with Jamie jumping in periodically, adding a thought here and there. I don't think I said anything. I just listen and watch myself push my food around on my plate.

"You're no eat'n, Claire." Jamie finally says as he takes my hand. "Yer wicked tomatoes churn'n in your stomach?" he asks with a small laugh and nudges me with his elbow.

"No" I say looking up and smiling at his little joke. "I'm not really very hungry. We had that big lunch today," I remind him as I look up. "Would you like to finish it?"

"Weel, if ye're sure ye no going to want it later..." He looks at me, raising eyebrow in question.

"It's all yours," and I push my plate in his direction. He picks it up, places it on top of his all ready cleaned plate and before I can say Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie has all but licked my plate clean as well.

"Did ye by chance make a pie for dessert? Ye ken I really like pie. The tart apple one, like before?" Jamie inquires as he licks the remains of the 5 pounds of mashed potatoes from the serving spoon.

"I did not have to," I reply. "the butcher's daughter, the very fair, very friendly Miss Rebecca seems to be a bit of a mind reader, Jamie. She has made you apple tarts. There are 4 in the pink box tied up with string over there on the counter" and I wave my hand in the general direction. "She says they are all for you, none are for me. Bit of a bitch, I think. Oh and she sent some clotted cream to go with them. It's in a jar in the fridge." I announce, with just a smidge of jealously added to my tone, as I shove my chair back and take some dishes to the sink. As I turn and leave the kitchen, I pause at the sofa, turn and add, "your dear Miss Rebecca said that you are to personally return the cream container when you are finished." I walk to my bedroom and soundly close the door.

"It is agreed then that we'll need to get up early," Frank offers in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I stopped by the Maise and spoke to Mrs. Graham and we know they dance to the rising sun. Jamie, you and Murtagh will need to be there just after for the best possible results," Frank continues. "You must go through with only the things you brought with you. You can not risk going through with anything made in the 20th century. If you are discovered with any such items, you might have great difficulty explaining them. It's not worth the risk."

Both Jamie and Murtagh nod in agreement.

"If we had thought to plan better, we could have gathered some 18th century items that could be traded for horses and food for when you first arrive," Frank says with irritation in his voice. "You are going back to an area thick with British soldiers and Jamie still has a price on his head. Horses could help you get away much more expeditiously. Remember about Cocknammon Rock as well. Avoid it at all costs."

"Aye, British Ambushes." Jamie repeats.

"The lad's size and hair make him hard to miss, let alone not be recognized." Murtagh adds. "We need to avoid the British Soldiers."

"It might be best to hide during the day and travel at night at least until you secure horses," Frank suggests.

Jamie turns red and runs his hands over his hair. "I had a bonnet when I was riding with my uncle but I must have lost it in the stramach. I did no have it when I arrived here.

"Where did the lass get to? Murtagh asks as he looks around the kitchen.

"I'm right here,'" I call out from the living room. All three look up and stare in disbelief. I am standing in front of the couch in my 18th century costume dress. "Completely authentic my friend assures me," as my hands smooth the bodice. "He volunteers at the local theatre house and says they purchased several of the costumes from the last period drama that was filmed locally. I have a ton of clothes on here: 1 shift, a set of stays, 2 petticoats, a bum roll, a wool skirt and bodice complete with stomacher. I have period hose, that tie, no garters, and boots," and I lifted up my skirts to show them. "I even have a cape" and I hold it up for them to see.

Jamie is the first to find his voice. "Claire! What are ye about, woman?".

Frank rolls his eyes and shares "I should have know better. I should have seen this coming a mile away."

I smile at Jamie and say, "I'm coming with you, of course. Silly."

Murtagh smiles, rubs his chin and turns to watch Jamie's reaction to this statement.

"No, no ye not Claire" Jamie says shaking his head madly back and forth. "Ye can'na do that." His eyes wide in horror with the idea of it. "Ye'll do no such th'in."

The look on Jamie's face as he speaks wipes the smile right off my face. My face falls from one of intense joy to hostility in the blink of an eye. "I can and I will," I retaliate. "You'll need me." I walk forward and set a small wooden box with a leather handle on the table. "I have made a small medical kit, of things I will need but won't be available until my time," and I open the lid.

"Those are all very obviously modern items, Claire" Frank states as he removes the scalpel, syringe and bottle of mercurochrome. "All of these are clearly not from the 18th century Claire. You're crazy to try and take them. What if someone sees them and questions you concerning them?

"I thought of that Frank. First I will take them out of there present packaging. I will simply explain that in my travels, I have come across these items in various spots around the world and found them to be quite useful." I take the syringe back and roll it back in the leather shammy and tie it securely.

"No. No Claire, I ken what this is about and I will no let you do this." Jamie declares softly. "It is too dangerous. You have no idea what you will be walking into. It is dangerous enough for Murtagh and myself to go back. For a women, and ye do'na act like any woman I have ever ken, it would be worse, more dangerous. And what would become of ye if I were to die at Colluden? Who would protect ye then? And I definitely can'na guarantee ye could get back here te ye time if ye should want or need to return." His face is full of worry.

"There is no guarantee you can even go through the stones with us, lass." Murtagh added.

To my surprise, Jamie is not angry with me. He seems almost proud that I would want to do this, for him. In order to be with him but I can see by his stance, he will tie me to a tree before he will let me anywhere near those Stones.

"Oh, so it's alright for you to risk it, but not me? Is that it?" I growl at him. "What if I don't want to be here without you? That I would rather be in the 1700's with you than in the present without you? I just want to be with **you** , is that so wrong?"

Frank and Murtagh both turn to look at Jamie to see his response.

"Claire, ye ken ye can'na go. Mo Neighan Donn, you would be lost without your hot baths, your ice cubes, your flameless candles and your horseless carriages. Ye do not ken how to cook over a fire. Ye have never even slept on the cold ground a day in your life or gone without food because there was noth'n to catch or te eat," Jamie said as he approaches me. "Ye can'na even ride a horse. I love ye for want'n to come. For think'n ye could make a go of it, for me. But I can'na let ye come mo chridhe." He takes me in his arms and pressed his forehead to mine. "God, I love ye all the more for want'n te come. For try'n so hard te make it so.

I kiss his nose and push my way out of his embrace. "Oh, I'm coming with you. Mark my words James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. I have a solution for your hair too. I can dye it. I have brown hair color from the beauty shop and she told me how to apply it to your hair Jamie. And, unlike any of you, I thought to go a local numismatist and purchase some old coins. I don't have a lot but they are authentic though a little worse for wear being 200 years old now but legal tender none the less. I also have a broach of my mothers that I have pried the gems out of..."

"Sassenach, No and that's all there is to say on the matter. Ye can'na come with us." Jamie folded his arms across his chest, daring me to disobey him.

"I have lived rough before, Jamie, with my uncle. I know how to build, light and cook over a fire. I've made plenty of meals for Lamb over a open fire when we went on site digs in Egypt, Peru, Mexico and even Greece. I have lived for months in tents, sure we had cots but I can learn to sleep on the ground. I've taken many a cold bath in a river, even the Nile with it's crocodiles. And I have ridden horses as well as donkeys, camels, a llama and an elephant so don't you think for one minute you can tell me I am weak and soft, my fine, red-headed friend. I am going and that's that." I fold my arms across my chest, daring Jamie to try and make me stay.

"'tis like watch'n ye mam and da discuss one of the bairns punishment all over again," Mutagh interjects. "Only they could finally agree at the end of an argument. And while nodding his head he adds, "It just might work, lad, her idea of com'n, it just might be a good th'in."

Jamie just glares at Murtagh. Murtagh lowers his eyes to the ground knowing silence is his the best course of action, for now. Jamie was not open to suggestions, so for the time being, he will be quiet. The lass will wear him down, of that he is sure.

"Out of my way," Claire commands in her best Matrons voice. "Get out of the kitchen" she barks and shoves up her sleeves. "I need to clean the dishes and prepare some food for us to take along with us. I think we should all try and get a few hours sleep as well. We will have a long couple of days ahead of us once we go through the stones. You said it was several days ride from the stones to Lallybroch, right?" I ask Murtagh, totally ignoring Jamie.

"There is no **We** Claire, only **Us** " I say as I point to Murtagh and myself, in an effort to try one last time to have her see things my way. Her head whips around to look at me. Her usually calm, caring, golden whiskey eyes have turned a dark amber, almost a dense brown, undeniably an expression of her anger. I have never seen her eyes that color before and would die happy if I never saw that color again. I do not much care for the fact that she is this angry at me. Although in hindsight, I really can not have expected any less from my wee grommel. I can na help but smile at the thought that she came up with this plan all on her own, all in an effort to remain with me. It is almost a sense of pride that I feel, that this woman would give up all she has to stand at my side, knowing that Colluden is my fate. I do not want, however, these last several hours with Claire to be an argument we would spend a lifetime regretting after I have gone. I need to fix this.

The next thing I ken my face feels the sting of a verra sharp slap that is going to leave a verra serious hand print on my cheek, for days.

"How dare you smile. How dare you think this is funny, James Fraser. I am not laughing." She growls as her eyes, still almost brown in color, now narrow into slits. I instinctively take a step backwards, out of arms reach.

From the corner of my eye I watch as Murtagh and Frank exchange awkward glances.

I collect the open bottle of whiskey from the counter and take down Claire's tea cup and saucer. I pour her a hefty dram and push the saucer across the counter toward Claire and wait for her to calm down enough to talk to me. I settle myself against the counter and watch her. I wait while she slams dishes, splashes water and mutters out loud to herself. She washes and rinses the supper dishes, setting them to dry on the counter. I watch while she wipes the stove, table and counters down. I observe her as she dries the dishes and puts them away. She still will not look at me but with each new task, she takes a sip from her cup. She mutters something more under her breath. I sigh and adjust my position as she then proceeds to make sandwiches for Murtagh and I to take with us. Roast beef and mustard on nice, hard rolls. Ham and cheese on bread, again with mustard. Both favorites of mine. She makes a dozen sandwiches and wraps them in wax paper, then the paper from the butcher and ties it all up nicely with string. She sets them on the kitchen table. She takes half a dozen apples from the fruit bowl and sets them beside the sandwiches. Claire then started to make two peanut butter and honey sandwiches...they are Claire's personal favorite...

I roll my eyes and slide down the counter until I am close enough that I can reach out and touch her, if I were brave enough to try. I turn to look at her and whisper, "Sassenach."

Her busy hands stop. She sets the knife she is using to spread the peanut butter, down, resting her still hands on the counter, but she will not look at me.

I reach out and tuck a stray curl behind her ear so I can see her face and not allow her to hide behind her hair. "Sassenach," I whisper again.

She turns and looks at me. Her eyes are still dark amber. Still angry then. I know she is not ready to talk. "Would ye maybe want a wee bit of air. We could take a stroll in the park across the street if ye'd like?"

And I place my hand over hers.

Murtagh waves his hand at the bottle and I move to pass it and two cups to him and motion my head for him to retreat back to the living room. Murtagh takes the bottle and cups and walks away.

I turn just in time to see Claire turn the corner to walk down the hall. "Claire, wait" and I follow.

She opens the door to her bedroom, walks inside and turns to face me. She looks me with her eyes still filled with so much hurt and anger, and with a flick of her wrist, slams the door closed.

I stop. What am I suppose to do now?


	14. Chapter 14 - Samhain Part II

Samhain Part II

I knock the back of my head against the door I just slammed shut and growl in my anger and frustration. My hands clench into tight fists just itching to hit something. "Ooohhhhh, that man is so infuriating" I pronounce to the vision of myself in the vanity mirror. "I hate you James Fraser" I shout hoping he'll hear me. I have given that _Large._ _Idiotic. Stubborn. Fat-Headed. Scot_ my heart; I have somehow managed to fall madly in love with him in less than a week. I basically just laid my heart open to him, told him, in no uncertain terms, that I wanted to spent the rest of my life with him. I am willing to give up my entire life here and travel back with him to his time, just so we can be together, forever. And what is his response to this declaration of mine? He has the audacity to tell me _"No, Ye ken'na go back with me Sassenach."_ I repeat the words out loud using a very bad Scottish lilt and shake my head side to side in a extremely poor attempt to mimic Jamie. That man has reached inside my chest, grabbed hold of my enamored heart and crushed it in his hand, with just a single word...No.

He is resolve. Resolute. The discussion is over. Why? Why does he not want to take me with him? Is he a married man on the other side of those stones? Married, with children? No, he would have told me, I am sure of it. He told me of the barmaid and the unborn child; he would have told me about a wife, especially since he was adamant about not sleeping with me. It would have been the perfect excuse to back up his refusal. That's not it. Had Jamie thought of taking me and never suggested it to me? I can only interpret this action to mean that Jamie definitely does not want me in his life as a permanent fixture. Perhaps I am not marriage material, not good enough for him or Clan Fraser. He is, after all, a Laird and I am just a working class girl. A Sassenach too. Even though Jamie says he calls me _Sassenach_ as an endearment, it does mean _An Outsider, a person not of Scottish birth_ and Murtagh has used the word in a derogatory context, twice, while in my presence. If I am really seen with such segregation, then I am totally unacceptable wife material in his time, to his family and friends. Oh, I am fine here, away from prying eyes, to be used as a free hotel, complete with meals and personal bed warmer. I am sure he has always assumed that he would be returning alone or then with Murtagh, after he was found. From the beginning, I was never part of that plan.

When I had the inspirational idea of going back with him, I acted on the idea because it felt right. I just knew Jamie would want me with him. That's the way it happens in the fairy tales I grew up reading. Wait for your Prince to come and then it's Happily Ever After, right? My Prince Charming's refusal was so immediate and final. That shocked me; it took my breath away. Suddenly it became clear that Jamie did not want me. Now, I was convenient, just not forever, not for always. It took me completely by surprise and left me speechless. In fairness, I had taken them all by surprise. I had simply walked into the kitchen and announced I was going. I had not consulted Jamie first. I had taken the decision completely away from him. In hind sight, it was strategically a bad move; I am betting 18th century men don't take kindly to demanding women or being ordered about by them. What would life be like for an 18th century women? Cooking, cleaning, laundry, yes, and sewing, mending and certainly having babies, probably not much more. Perhaps I would be useful tending Jamie's many wounds. But that would be all. Would he ever seek my council on any decisions? Probably not. Maybe he thought it would not be much of a life for me.

I can not really blame him for sleeping with me either. It was I that enticed him. I threw myself at him, almost from the first moment. Like a common whore. No, even worse than that, I had begged him to sleep with me. Begged him! Could I have been any more pathetic? How many times did Jamie refuse my advances? At least half a dozen by my quick count. He acted a perfect gentleman and I basically threw myself at him. I choke on that thought. A man, even a well raised one, can only say no so many times, I suppose. I look myself in the mirror and know I have finally seen the situation for what it really was. Not my imaginative dream one. No knight on a white horse will ever come for me. I really must stop believing in fairy tales.

I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. "No. No, Claire Beauchamp, you will not cry," I tell myself. "Absolutely no more tears!" I believed for the oldest line in the book... _"we are meant to be together. It's our destiny."_ he had said. "Soul mates, my ass. The Liar!" I scream out loud. That thought really riles my dander! Throw something my mind is telling me, it will make you feel much better. "That's it, find something to break" I declare to my mirrored self. I scan my bedroom and spy the perfect object. I walk over to dresser, pick up the vase and turn to throw it at the door. When I look down at it, I am reminded that it is a much loved Christmas gift from Uncle Lamb. No, I can not break this, it has sentimental value and so I set it back down with tender, loving care. I walk to my vanity and pick up my hair brush, tossing it back and forth between my hands, like a baseball, then decide, no, it won't shatter into a million pieces like **HE** has shattered my heart. There would be no satisfaction in breaking something that won't shatter, so I set it back down. My eyes rest on the perfume bottle nearby. I pick it up. No, not that either, it's my favorite scent and again I set it carefully back down... and so, one by one, I find and then eliminate every object I come across; I find a reason not to throw each and every item until I suddenly realize my anger has been curtailed. I am no long irate, just sad and hurt. I want to cry but I refuse to give into the urge, I won't give him the satisfaction of bringing me to tears.

I accept that I am staying, not going anywhere, and that once again, I will be alone. No one to share my life with. I walk to the bed and remove the costume clothing and with great sadness, place it all back in the garment bag. I hang it up on my closet door making a mental note that I will need to return it to my friend. I put my pajamas and robe on, pull my hair up in a messy ponytail, pick up the small bag of coins and trudge back to my bedroom door. I really don't want want go out there, but I will be strong. When I reach the door and place my hand on the door knob, I stop for a moment and collect myself. I pull my shoulders back, take a deep breath, open the door and walk down the hallway.

When I reach the living room, to proceed to the kitchen, all three men are watching me. When I stop and meet their looks, my eyes glaring at each of them, their looks scatter like children caught in mischief making. All three, remain seated as their eyes search everywhere, alighting anything but me. They were trying desperately to avoid my angry gaze. Frank shuffles papers, Murtagh stands and stokes the fire and Jamie, well the fingers of his left hand are tapping his thigh like crazy and there is a dirt spot on the carpet that has his undivided attention.

"Humph" I snort as I reach down and grab Franks rather large glass of whiskey and continue to the kitchen. I lean back against the kitchen and watch them as I sip the whiskey. I have a direct view into the living room from where I stand. I can see their every move.

They are silent as the grave and none of them have the bollocks to look at me. I set the whiskey down on the counter beside me, I open the pillow case I have brought with me and pack it with the apples and the sandwiches I had made earlier. I place my two peanut butter and honey sandwiches in the fridge since I will not be going with them. I take the two bottles of wine I have on the counter and with the help of water, a knife and a sponge, I remove all the labeling. I dry them off and place them in the makeshift sack as well. I tie the bag closed with some twine I have in a drawer and set it on the table. I place the leather pouch with the coins and gems beside it. I finish my drink, rinse my glass out and place it in the sink to be washed later. I turn to go back to my room. This time I see Jamie is watching me and our eyes lock, for a moment. There is nothing I can read in his eyes. His face is veiled, preventing me from any hope of understanding what is going through his mind. I raise my eyebrows at him, asking silently if he has anything he wants to say, and he looks back down at his feet. I audibly sigh and continue to the bathroom. I follow my usual bedtime routine - wash my face, brush my teeth, use the loo. I will moisturize in my room so I don't tie up the bathroom in case someone else needs to use it.

When I open the bathroom door, there is Murtagh, leaning against the opposite wall, watching me with his dark brown eyes. He stance straightens when I step out into the hall and he opens his arms to me. Without thinking, I walk into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around my shoulders, holding me lightly. And, like his godson, he begins to whispers to me in Gaelic, knowing it is what I need. I know not what he says, but his voice soothes me while I cry. When I am done, he hands me a handkerchief to dry my tears.

I take a step back, to better look at this man I have only known for hours, not days, weeks or years. I sketch a mental picture of him to help me remember him by. His face is full of frown, more than I have seen all day, even at the hospital. His forehead is lined with worry. For whom, I wonder, me or them. I raise my hand and place my palm against his cheek. I move slowly so he does not think I am going to slap, as I did Jamie.

"I know things will go quickly when we leave for the stones so I want to tell you now to take care of yourself, and Jamie" I plead. "You know I will have Frank find you, straight away. I will not rest until I know you both made it back safely and what becomes of you both. Understand that if neither of you return, l will locate your final resting spot. I will make sure you have decent markers. I will visit Every Samhain and mourn your loss for the rest of my life. I make you and Jamie that pledge, Murtagh. I know a bit about honor too, you know" and with a frown on my face, I gently kick him in the shin.

"The clot-heid loves ye, ye ken that, Claire." Murtagh states knowingly and glaces in the direction of the living room. I do not follow his gaze. My eyes remain fixed on his face. "Frasers, ye see, weel, they are stubborn as rocks. Always thinking they know what is right. Even when they are wrong" and he winks at me as if we share the joke.

"You do remember you are a Fraser as well," I remind him. "That makes you equally as hard headed" and I grin. "Do you believe he is right, that I should not be going back with him?"

"Claire, my opinion does'na matter. This is between you and the lad. He has made up his mind. We, neither ye nor I, have any more say about it, aye?"

I nod my head only slightly to acknowledge that I understand what he has said but not that I agree with him.

"I will tell ye this, he'll never find another woman like ye. And if ye were mine, I would'na be leave'n ye behind," and places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Shall I take ye ta bride then and drag ye back with me instead? Think we could make a go of it? You and me?" He asks with a flourish and gives me a half bow.

I can not help myself, I giggle like a school girl and give him a full on smile. "I think I will miss you almost as much as him, Murtagh. I am sorry our time has been so short. I should like to know you better. Do try and stay out of trouble but above all else...Live. Survive and bring him back to me, please Murtagh" and I kiss him softly on the cheek.

Murtagh turns red, almost the color of my lipstick, smiles and nods his head in response.

"I'd best get some sleep. See you in a couple of hours." I turn and walk back to my bedroom closing the door softly behind me.

If I had turned around I would have seen Jamie standing in the living room entrance, watching and listening. I would have seen Murtagh raise both eyebrows at Jamie and nod his head in my direction and Jamie shake his head _No_. And as Murtagh passes Jamie on his way back to warm himself in front of the fire, Jamie places his hand on Murtagh's shoulder and whispers "Ś e as fheàrr a tha e à tighinn gu crìch air an dòigh seo, Murtagh. Tha mi air a h-adhbhrachadh gu leòr pian." _It is best it ends this way, Murtagh. I have caused her enough pain._

Murtagh having stopped to listen to Jamie, now turns and faces him. "Tha mi air a-riamh ceasnachadh sam bith de na roghainnean agad tro m ùile bliadhna de fios tha gille. Gu ruige seo." _I have never questioned any of your choices through all my years of knowing you, lad. Until now._ Murtagh completes his walk to the fire and while warming his hands, he stared blankly into the flames, contemplating his own, private thoughts.

Frank, he watches everything from his seat on the couch saying nothing.

After I have gone back to my room, I wait, sitting on the edge of my bed, hoping and praying that Jamie will come to me, one last time. Finally I give up and fold myself into the large padded chair by the window, tucking my feet up under me. I am tired but do not crave sleep. I do not want to miss Jamie, if he comes. I looked out the window, trying to find Orion. Not finding the constellation, I settle in to watch the moon. Jamie does not come to me. This is how it is to end between us, I suppose. In the early light I will watch him disappear though that stone with Murtagh and then I will go back to my old life and work. Back to my same old routine, like this whirlwind week had never happened.

Raymond and his friend and colleague of many years Quentin Beauchamp make their way up the hill called Craig Na Dun. It is a little after 3am, the moon is full but does not provide enough light for them to walk the path through the shrubs and trees. Quentin, as always, is ready for anything; he has thought to bring a couple of torches so they can find their way. It is one of the reasons he and Quentin are friends. Like a well trained boy scout, Quentin had a propensity to always be prepared. Quentin is the planner of the pair. He, himself, tends to consult the bones, waiting and watching for outcomes, adjusting as things occur; he method is more reactive. They are a good team. Quentin is the best partner he has had in many, many years. Not since Leonardo...now that man had such imagination, so curious and inventive. He will have to go back and visit his old friend in Florence when this is all over. He could do with a week of sun, pasta, stimulating conversations, wonderful art and some nice Italy wines.

"You know Claire is going back with them." Quentin states, breaking the silence. "She loves him. Jamie, I mean. She is set on spending the rest of her life with him, just as you said. Whether it is 1946 or in 1743, it makes no matter to her, and you know better than anyone how unwavering she can be when she sets her mind to something, Raymond" Quentin reminds his friend. "She has slept with him. She told me. She is absolutely glowing. Will this child be the one, do you know?"

"Yes, she is carrying the red man's child. I won't know until after she is born and I can see her aura. That will tell me if this child is the one we are waiting for. The bones say it will be a difficult pregnancy for Madonna. We will have to be watchful," Raymond comments to Quentin. Just another reason for them to keep them in this time he thinks to himself. "The child is important" Raymond states and stops walking to look around, to set his bearings. "The child is everything. The question is, does he know she is with child? His child? I am surprised if he has chosen for them to travel, knowing her condition, so I think she has not told him" and he sighs. It is important they not hide things from each other he reminds himself. They will need to be able to trust each other, implicitly. To never doubt, never question, each others hearts or motives.

Quentin sighs. "I will miss her very much when she goes. I have grown rather fond of your daughter, my friend. Perhaps you could take me with you when you visit her."

Raymond does not no how to answer his friend. He can never be sure when he will travel, where he will travel to and what will need to be done when he arrives. Claire and the warrior's safety is paramount. To bring Quentin to see Claire would jeopardize that safety. "You are right, Quentin. I could see it in her eyes tonight, the love she feels for her warrior. Like a tiger, she will protect him. That will help them get through this trial. They will always be better together. It is interesting, each thinking they are protecting the other. When they are apart, bad things will happen." Raymond reminds Quentin. "That is why it is important we keep them together and hide them well. It is the reason I am here and we are out this early in the morning, looking for the stones, instead of warm and snug in our beds, yes? "I think we need to prevent them from passing through the stones." Raymond stops and looks at his friend. The seriousness of the situation is written all over his face. "The coven in France of which I have spoken, they know of her. They know her as Claire Beauchamp, not for who she really is, nor do they know her true purpose. They only know she exists and she is a traveler. A woman who now goes by Melisande Robicheaux has slipped through the stones with the help of gems and a sacrifice. She is not a traveler but has made it to the red man's time and aligned herself with St. Germain. Both are truly dark beings. Melisande goes for another reason but the bones tell me to watch her. They have been watching the warrior and his family. Waiting for the child to come. They might begin to question Claire's true purpose if she returns with the red man to his time."

 _He had been frightened initially when Julia and Henry had died suddenly and under strange circumstances. After that he had given her to Quentin and had them hide in Egypt. They had remained hidden until the historian had shown up looking for Quentin, asking about French Philosophy as it relates to Egyptian Religious practices. What kind of historian, that specializes in the Jacobite Risings, suddenly becomes interested topic like that? He still believes that it was the Dark British Officer that had come in the guise of the historian. The man, Randall, that he met as they exited the flat, is not the same man that came to Quentin and her in Egypt. It would make sense that something that dark could be a doppelgänger. His error had cost him Quentin and almost Claire when she married the historian. When he found out, he had quickly tried to repair the damage and sent Claire through the stones to the red man for protection. That had been a mistake. The warrior had many enemies in his own in his time. Those damn uncles for one, the mother's brothers. All those deaths in the young warrior's family were note worthy as well. First the older brother, the true heir, then the mother with an unborn brother, and then finally the father. And then the warriors aunts too. Only the one had managed to escape to the Americas with her life. Too many family deaths for him to consider it a coincidence. That business with the British Officer, there was a dark soul if ever he had met one, and the bones said the officer would pursue the red warrior relentlessly. The pair, Claire and the red man, were found much too easily and the child was lost, before it was even born. I must not make the same mistake again, Raymond reminds himself._

"So the plan is to prevent all of them from traveling through the stones, then?" Quentin inquired.

"Yes, I think we must. I think they are safer and easier to hide here. I am very happy that his godfather is here as well." Raymond replies. "He will protect them both with his life. St, Germain now knows of the stones from Melisande. She being only a witch has knowledge of the stones but little of travelers. They will not think that Fraser can travel through the stones, to Claire. His family has no history of travelers. He will have no reason to look for them here." They had reached the stones. Raymond stops and enters the circle. The stones are already talking, buzzing like a busy bee hive. The Druids will be here soon. They will come an hour before sunrise. Quentin removes his rucksack and takes out the bottles Raymond had him pack as well as two bunches of dried sticks and herbs that are tied together.

"Do you want me to light these now?" Quentin asks holding one of the bunches up for Raymond to see.

"No, we will do that last," Raymond replies. He starts circling the outer stones, stopping at each one, laying an hand on the stone and chanting. The words are old, in a language that was never written and is hardly ever spoken any longer. There are so very few left that know of it.

 _Quentin stands quietly as Raymond does what he does best. Raymond is a bit of a conundrum to him. They have known each other since Quentin was in his 2nds. Raymond owned the corner Chemist Shop in the neighborhood he grew up in. A Frenchman in England, that in of itself was odd. When he started University, he worked part time at the shop and he began to understand Raymond better and they became friends. It was when he was at the site dig in Egypt that they became colleagues and part of Raymond's world. He'll never forget the day that Raymond came out of the Pyramid, carry an infant Claire in his arms, asking for his help. That he needed to hide her, to keep her safe. He came out of a partially excavated pyramid carrying a baby. It's funny, when he first met Raymond he seemed an old man with very few teeth, then in University he seemed young, and now, even closer to his own age and a mouth full of beautiful, white teeth. Raymond seems to be growing younger, as well._

Quentin is pulled back from his thoughts. Raymond is speaking to him.

"... we know Claire is his first, that is an important piece," Raymond says. "He needs to have not fathered other children prior to this child with Claire. That is essential. She has lain with no one else before Jamie, this important as well. It is another key piece. I have made that mistake in the past also. No, this time we will get it right, Quentin. The lad thinks he bedded the barmaid, not realizing she was really a local whore and already with child. Someone killed the barmaid and the child she was carrying. I am sure St. German's coven was behind it."

"I know the Druids will dance before dawn for the ceremony ends with the coming of daybreak and the beginning of winter. They will summons the sun, awaken the stones and pay homage to the old ways of travel. Their song, with it's dance and fire, opens the door of the stones, allowing travelers at a chance at a new voyage. It has happened, accidentally of course, that sometimes a non magical slips through time as well. Some make it out the other end and others do not, so say the anguishing cries of the lost souls who have tried and failed; they scream out to one as you move from one time to another. Heart wrenchingly sad to hear, I'm afraid. It has given non magical folk generations of tales, songs of travel through time and stories of stone circles that sing." Raymond whispers to Quentin. Madonna is a traveler, she needs no gems or sacrifices. She has also inherited my gift for healing and herbs; she heals through empathy. Her gift is strong though she will not come into her full power for many years yet. The red man will help her find her true self."

"You say each circle has it own unique voice or call and not all circles can communicate with others. Are some circles are stronger than others as well?" Quentin inquires.

"Some sit on stronger, more magical spots. Some are out in the open like Craig na dun. Others are hidden in mountains, at the bottom of lakes or beneath cities. You can find them if you know where and how to look, and listen." Raymond says. "Someday maybe I can show you more. We need to get Claire and her Red Man hidden and settled first."

"I have been doing my research into this coven of druids. Frank has even introduced me to the coven's, a Mrs. Graham." Quentin notes with pride in his voice. "She is quite kind and very knowledgeable, but does not really understand scope of why she perfoms this ceremony nor it's ramifications. She just knows that her Grandmother did it, and it is hers to continue and pass to her granddaughter. I know this particular coven is very old and strong. Every other generation of the same family line has been the Caller since the 12th century. The witches of this particular family are famous and very powerful. We are lucky that they are innocent of their true abilities and that they are white witches, Raymond."

"Yes. Exactly Quentin." Raymond readily agrees. "We are very fortunate indeed. Now let us light the dried herbs and then we must hid ourselves before the Druids arrive and begin their song."

I knew immediately something was wrong. My eyes popped open and I sit straight up. It is still dark and I wait for my eyes to adjust to the pre-dawn light coming from the window. I look around and find myself on top of my own bed with a blanket covering me. Not a blanket I realize almost by the feel alone, his plaid. The one we had purchased together. The last thing I remember was sitting, curled up in the armchair, looking out my window. The air in my room had a cold chill to it. I never closed my window last night. I climb out of bed, wrap the plaid around me and walk into the hall.

Silence. You could hear a pin drop. And I knew. They are gone. They had left without me. Gone forever, without so much as a good bye.

I run down the hall, just to make sure, silently praying they had changed their minds and decided to stay. My bare feet quickly hustling down the cold wooden floor. I note that bathroom and Lamb's bedroom doors are both open as I hasten by. No one is in either room. I know the answer before I reach my destination. Frank would have made sure they were up and gone with plenty of time to spare. My heart stops beating as I turn and look. Not a living soul in the room. The fire, embers still glowing, has been recently banked. The pillows and blankets are folded and stacked neatly on the otherwise empty couch. The settee, Jamie had repeatedly called it and I swear it is still warm to the touch. They have not been gone long. I close my eye for just a second and see Jamie sitting there telling me his heart, dressed in the neighbors borrowed clothes. Was it really only 5 days ago? If he has gone through the stones he is just a memory now. Just a ghost.

I turn to the kitchen. I hope, against all hope, that I will see him smile at me as he looks up from his bowl of porridge, but there is no one. The light is off. The sack of food I had left is gone. The pouch of coins is still there. Damned Stubborn Scot. Like a rock maybe, but he had been my Rock Headed Scot. Mine no more.

I move to the window to see if I can spot them, call out to them to wait for me, I want to come. I scan down the street and across to the park. There's not a soul to be seen. Frank would have driven them. It would be too far to walk.

I turn and walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Time to re-start my life. I will go to work and forget all this has happened.


	15. Chapter 15 - Lallybroch

Lallybroch

Claire dragged herself in through the doors of the Hospital and the smell of the hospital hit her as she walked in; that clean, sterile, bleached smell that most people complain about when they first come in. She had become desensitized to the odor, she had not noticed it in years. She walked up to the second floor, the floor with the newly admitted patients. She entered the nurse's locker room and found her standard grey locker, number 1721, put her purse and sweater away and removed her cap from the shelf. She walked to the lavatory to use the mirror to check her makeup and pin her cap in place. She hardly recognized the face in the mirror staring back at her. There was such sadness in the eyes that looked back at her and puffy from all the crying that had been done before she left the flat. She looked a fright and thought for sure she would scare the patients. If she had not already been out for 4 days, she would have called out sick, but she could not do that to the other nurses. It's tough on the rest of the team when one of them is out. Besides all she would do at home would be to cry and be miserable. Here at least there was the offer of distraction. The day would go quickly. An 8 hour shift usually ended up being 10 – 12 hours here anyway. She would go home exhausted and fall into bed. She would wake up tomorrow and do it all again. One foot in front of the other, trudge on like the good little soldier she was. One day at a time. The ache in her heart would eventually lessen, she had to hope.

Nurse's aide Mary Hawkins and Head Nurse Margaret Sanger came bursting into the locker room.

"SssEeee Mrs. SSSanger, I told you I ssssawww Ccclllaire come in. She's back" Mary proudly pronounced.

"Aye, I can see that with my own eyes Mary. I thank you for coming to tell me so quickly" and she smiled at Mary.

"I'm so glaaad you're back Ccclllaire. We haaaave missed you terribly." Mary said a huge grin on her face. "Ddddooo you think she can hhhhelp me with Mr. Murray? He is ggggiving me sssuch a hard time."

"Mary, give me a minute with Claire and then I will send her to help you, I promise. Since she is not on the schedule to return until tomorrow, I think that would work nicely for the floor. We know how good Claire is with… unhappy patients."

"SSSure, Mrs. Sanger. Ggggood to have you back Ccccllaire" and Mary left the room.

Nurse Sanger approached Claire. It was clear she had been crying. Quite a bit of crying by the looks of her. Claire's face and body language told her that; her stance was not her usual military stiff and straight self and her eyes, puffy from tears. Her face carried the look of a person worn out from working an 8 hour shift not one just coming on. Even her usual perfect make-up and immaculate hair were in state of disrepair. Something was wrong. She needed to make sure Claire was alright to come back to work. Claire was her best, most dependable nurse and was always the consummate professional. She knew to leave her personal issues at the door and give her patients the very best possible care; she made the hospital proud to have her on their staff. As Claire's direct supervisor it was her duty to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her nurse.

Nurse Sanger approached Claire and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What's going on Claire? It's not like you to get your days mixed up. You look a bit of a sight. Are you sure you wouldn't rather be home?"

Claire looked up into the mirror at the concerned face of her supervisor standing behind her. Nurse Sanger was one of the few women she knew who was taller than herself and a great supervisor; she absolutely loved working with her. Some head nurses can be so disciplined and hard but not Nurse Sanger. That is why no one ever transferred from this floor; it had a reputation for breaking nurses but when Nurse Sanger took charge almost a year ago, things changed. Mrs. Sanger protected her nurses, she did not allow the doctors berate or ridicule them. She always stood up for her floor nurses and had a reputation for kindness and fairness. Claire knew she couldn't lie to her supervisor, but if she started to talk about this week, all that had happened, then the fragile wall she had erected, and needed, to even walk through the hospital doors, would come crashing down. Claire's hands trembled as she tried to pin her cap to her head when she noticed the large white cuff on the sleeve of the new couture nurse's uniform looked crumpled and smashed. She set the cap and pins down and started to pull and futz with the sleeve, the pale blue uniforms with their starched white pinafores were beautiful but the large cuffs were very impractical.

"Here Claire, let's start with the hair shall we?" Nurse Sanger said in a calm and kind tone. "Hand me your hairbrush." She removed the tie from Claire's hair and, handed it to her to hold and started to brush it. "You have the most beautiful curly hair. It's naturally, yes? You don't perm it, do you?" she asked.

"No" Claire replied in a quiet voice.

Well, that confirmed it. Claire always spoke clearly and in a normal tone. Looked a person in the eye when she spoke. Something was off. "Well I know plenty that would kill for these curls, natural or man-made" and she smiled at her nurse in the mirror. "You sure you feel up to working today? You seem a bit out of sorts…" Nurse Sanger reached for the tie to complete the ponytail.

"I'm just a little tired. We had a fun, fast paced, exhilarating and exhausting couple of days. I had a friend in town, staying with me. And we spent 3 days touring the Scottish sights. That's why I asked for the days off." Claire explained then sighed.

"I see. Hand me your cap and I'll pin it in place… if you are sure you want to stay" she said.

"I would like to… to keep busy. You see, my friend left early this morning and I don't think I will see them again" Claire said softly and looked at her feet.

Not before her supervisor saw her chin tremble. She took Claire by the shoulders and turned her around to face her. "A man, sweetie?"

Claire wouldn't look up. She just couldn't. She was barely able to hold back the tears now. "It did not end well before he left, you see. We had a fight."

"Well, if I am any judge of men, and I think that I am, married 35 years and raised 4 fine boys, the only female in the house, even the dogs were all males. Your fella is feeling the same way, I'm sure. How could he not? Let the man get to where he is going. Give him a couple of days. He will call you, I'm sure of it" and she smiled at Claire with all the confidence and knowing of any mother. "Is he military?" she asked.

"Yes, yes he's a soldier" Claire responded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled it back out through her mouth. She did that a second time and then opened her eyes.

Her supervisor was looking at her curiously.

"An odd trick an old man I met in Tibet taught me, when I was living, or rather traveling, with my Uncle after my parents died. He said it would help _center me_. And it does, if calming me is centering me" and Claire smiled as she remembered the small bald man dressed in red. "Anyway, I need to be busy. Point me to Mr. Murray and let's see if I can help Mary out with her worrisome patient."

"Alright, if you are sure... If you change your mind or need to leave early, just come find me. If I am not on the floor, I will be in my office" and she starts to walk away. She stops and turns around. "It's good to have you back Claire. Your absence was noticed" and she opened the door for Claire and followed her out.

"Good morning Mr. Murray," Claire cheerfully announced her presence and added a smile. "I am Nurse Beauchamp. I will be your nurse while you are here today". "You remember Mary?" and she turned to find that Mary was not behind her. She had not followed Claire into the room at all, absolutely no Mary in sight. She looked back out into the hall and saw Mary's figure turn the corner at the nurse's station and disappeared without a glace behind her. "Coward" Claire muttered to herself. Seems she was on her own with Mr. Murray then.

"Another Nurse?" Mr. Murray grumbled loudly as he opened his eyes and glared at her. "That makes 3 and I've only arrived this morning. Are you going to poke, prod and take my pulse as well?" he growled.

Well, now Claire knew why Mary preferred to be elsewhere, actually anywhere else but in this room. She smiled, her best, most patient friendly smile in her repertoire. She would make her mission, today, to see that Mr. Murray was content, maybe not happy but content since his chart said he was going to be here for several day, at the minimum. Severe chest pains.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" she asked. "Another pillow perhaps or a second blanket? I could turn the radio on if you'd like to listen to some music."

"No, I don't want to listen to what you young people think passes for music these days" he said with a frown. "I'd like to go home. If you really want to help, find my clothes and help me get dressed. Let me get out of here."

"Mr. Murray, your chart says you are in here because of chest pains. The doctors want you to stay in hospital a couple of days so they can run some tests. Where is your family? Are they downstairs in the cafeteria having a cuppa? Would you like me to go down and fetch them for you?"

"No, I don't want you to go down and fetch them!" He yelled, turned and looked out the window. I checked his chart. No family. The man had no one. He'd most likely had a heart attack, he was probably scared to death and had no one to sit with him. No one to talk to or to hold his hand, to comfort him.

Claire walked over, pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. She reached out and gently took his hand in hers. She spoke not a word, sat in silence waiting for him to tell her.

He did not pull his hand away. He allowed her to hold it, he even squeezing it once. That spoke volumes. While still looking out the window he began, "I was'na always an auld grommel, ye ken. I remember being happy. Once, a long time ago. I was married too. Happily. Her name was, or rather still is, Rebecca, but I always called her Becs" and she was mine. He turned and let me see the sadness in his heart. Becs and I grew up together as kids. All the boys wanted her as their sweetheart, but I was the one she picked, out of all of them. I was the one she wanted, she had always said, until she didn't anymore. Want me that is. Said she always ken it would be me she would marry. All through school, we only had eyes for each other. Neither of us dated anyone else. When we got our parents permission to marry, we did'na even wait to finish school. We were so happy. We didn't have much but it didn't matter, we had each other. We lived on my family's farm; 3 generations of Murray's in the big house. My Grandda and Granny, my da and ma and me and Becs. Did not think we could be happier until the day our son was born. We named him Ian. After the first Murray to run the farm. Back to the early 18th century, we go back. We, the first male of each generation are all Ian Murray's, except the verra first; the verra first Ian Murray's youngest son was the first to carry his fathers name. The first Ian Murray's first born was named after his wife's brother, ye see. Verra unusal. She was the last of her name. All of her family had died except one, a younger brother and that's who her oldest was named after. So verra sad" he said as he shook his head. "She had an older brother that died when he was 11. He must have fallen ill and died. Then the mother must have died in childbirth because she died on the same day a baby was born. The baby died as well. Not so uncommon back then, ye ken. Then the father died, young, only 40 years old. Murray's wife has another, younger brother, that was still alive but the farm goes to the oldest Murray son; it does not stay in the wife's family" and John scratches his head and shrugs his shoulders. "We never solved the mystery of the surviving brother and why he did not take over the running of the family farm. Perhaps he was handicapped or soft in the heid. Maybe he died at Culloden Moor in '46 or slipped out of the country, like so many Scots tried that were persecuted by the British around that time. Many healthy young Scots that were caught were tried and hung as traitors of the crown in an attempt by the British to take family land. We'll never ken, I suppose. So that's how the farm fell to the Murray's, by marriage and is my inheritance.

"How very interesting, Mr. Murray. It's nice that you know a little about your family's history. That does not really explain where your family is now or how I can get in touch with your nearest relative, though." Claire smiled as she patted his hand. "Would you like some water, before you continue your family's tale?" she asked.

"Please, Claire is it? Call me John, it's the English translation for Ian. I'd love a cuppa, if you could manage it. Maybe a biscuit or two to go with it?"

Claire nodded, left and returned with his tea. She had even managed to snag a couple of jammie dodgers from the nurses lounge. "I need to poke and prod you for just a few minutes. It will give your tea a chance to cool. You said plain, no milk or lemon, correct?" she asked.

John nodded his head and held out his arm so she could take his blood pressure and pulse. When that was done, she made the notations in his chart. "Do you need to use the loo?" Claire asked. "I'll be happy to assist you or would you like me to unpack your overnight bag?"

"I don't have an overnight bag. There was no one to pack one for me." John said. "The only thing I thought to grab was the family bible when the police came to pick me up ta bring me to hospital. The doc waited with me until they came but neither of us thought about an overnight bag."

"What?" Claire exclaimed. "I will go down the street on my lunch hour and pick you up some essentials. If you will give me permission, I have a friend that might be willing to drive me out to your farm and let me pick some things up for you, if you would like. I've been very lucky and traveled a great deal with an Uncle that raised me but, you know, I have never been on a working Scottish farm. Do you have someone to look after your animals and pets?

"A neighbor will watch the farm for a day or two, but he has his own farm and family to take care of. If my stay goes much longer than that I will have to find someone that can stay at the farm. Maybe hire an hand or two." John sighed and shook his head. "I don't like strangers mucking about the place."

"Well, when they release you, you won't be able to manage alone in the beginning. You'll need someone to look after you. Do you have a housekeeper? What about your... Rebecca, is it? Could she come and stay a while, perhaps?" Claire inquired.

"No, I would'na ask Becs" he said, looking down at his hands and shaking his head.

Claire watched Mr. Murray for a minute, waiting to see if he wanted to tell her why his wife was alive, but not an option to take care of him. When he said nothing more she stated "Well, I will help you think of something, John, don't you worry. Now sit up, let me fluff those pillows to make you more comfortable," which Claire did, straightening his bedding as well and then handed him his tea.

"If all the men are named Ian, it would most definitely make it easy to call everyone into supper" Claire said and smiled. John returned her smile. "But it must make it difficult in normal table conversation. Mention the name Ian and every male at the table looks up.." and Claire giggled. "Are you given numbers... Is your Grandfather Ian #1 and your father Ian #2 and so on?" Claire asked.

"Verra funny lass. Ye have a bit of a wit, I will say that for all your Englishness. We just have different names between the first and the last, ye see. My Grandda was Ian Murray; Ian Robert Murtagh MacKenzie Murray and he was always called Rabbie. My father was Ian Murray; Ian Alastair Robert MacLeod Murray, just like the very first Murray in our family tree and he always went by Ian. When my mam and da had me I was Ian Murray; only I am Ian Brian James Fraser Murray and I have always gone by John. Named after the man that built the family farm, Brian and his son James and the first Ian Murray's wife's family name Fraser. My son was Ian Murray. Ian William Robert MacKenzie Murray and we started calling him Willie. He is named for the other two sons of Brian and his wife's family name MacKenzie. Only my son wanted everyone to call him Angus. He thought Willie was too baby and William too formal and Angus was much more brawn" and John laughed.

"What a lovely story. And where is your son then?" Claire asked. "Fraser you say, I have a friend with the same last name, though I guess it is a fairly common Scottish surname..."

"Aye, lots of Fraser's around Inverness, what with the Frasers of Lovat and their castle only a stones throw from here" Mr. Murray admitted.

"Yes, yes." Claire chimed in. "I just came back from a short holiday touring the highland local sites with a couple of friends. One was a Jamie Fraser. We stopped in Beauly; that's where the Lovat Castle is if I remember correctly. Clan Fraser as well, right?"

"Why aye," Mr. Murray said with a smile. "Are ye sure ye do'na have a wee of the Scotch in ye? Ye seem to have caught on to the clans pretty well for a Sassenach."

That made Claire laugh. "Oh, you are a sweet talker, John. Now tell me about your son and fishing..."

"My father and my son loved to stream fish. They would leave before dawn on a Saturday Morning and be home by noon with with enough beautiful trout for dinner that night. They had a great relationship. When my mother died it was Angus and fish'n my da lived for." Mr. Murray closed his eyes and a quiet sob escaped his lips.

Claire waited for John to gather himself. When he did, he opened his eyes and I handed him a tissue. He smiled at me as he took it. "Where was I? Ah, yes... my father and son. They went fish'n you see, one Saturday, on Auld Hallows Eve, and never returned. They had a secret fishing hole and they swore they would not tell anyone, not even me, where it was so when they left that morning and they did'na come home that night we did not even ken where to send the police ta look for them. Becs and I, we ken something was wrong. Something happened to keep them from returning home. About a week later they found my da's car. About an hour away from the farm, not far from here, near Craigh na Dun it was, parked on the side of the road. They never found the fish'n poles, the basket lunch, none of it. Almost like they vanished into thin air." He shook his head in sadness.

"My wife and I never recovered, or maybe she did and moved on but I never did and that's why she left. She moved to the big city. London. To forget, I think. Met a new bloke. English. Sent the final divorce papers for me to sign on about 40 years ago it were. Said she did not want to see me. Couldn't. Brought back too many sad memories her note said. Anyway, she's happy. Has a new family. So, no. I don't have any family left." He said and tried to smile.

Claire just held his hand and gave him time to collect his thoughts.

"So you see, every October 31st, I usually go up to Craigh na Dun and set flowers by the stream near the big stones there. In memory, you see. For my father and my son. Do you know Craigh na dun?" he asked. "Maybe that's why I am so out of sorts."

"That's quite a story." Claire said. "I am truly sorry for your loss. If you would like, when you are able to go home, I will take you up to Craigh na Dun, if you would like, to lay your flowers." She said it and meant it. She could say goodbye to Jamie and Murtagh at the same time, she thought. "Where is your farm?"

"You are a kind lass for a Sassenach, ye ken? So nice of ye to sit with me and offer te help. Yer just lovely. The farm, Broch Tuarach? It's about an hour north of Inverness. Near a town call Broch Mordha.

"Sassenach, my friend called me that, as an endearment he said. Broch Mordha?" Claire repeated. "Where have I heard that before?" and she looked out the window until it came to her... "my friend mentioned that name as well. It's a town near your farm?"

"Weel, if ye take the A-82 out'a Inverness to the A-87, ye'll run right into Broch Mordha, ye see. The A-87 runs right up against the western edge of the farm, Broch Tuarach."

"Broch Tuarach, there's another name I've heard recently. My friend said something about a Laird of Broch Tuarach..." Claire said tapping her fingers on the bed and looked back out the window.

"Oh, Lallybroch is no a working farm any more lass. No. I can'na run a farm alone. I keep a couple of sheep and chickens and tend a wee garden..."

"LALLYBROCH?" Claire interrupted, practically screamed. Did you say your farm is named Lalllybroch?" She turned to look into John's face with an almost desperate stare.

"Aye, lass. Lallybroch..." and he looked at her with question in his face. "And there has always been a Laird. Laird Broch Tuarach, himself he is referred to. That would technically be me now. Ouch, lass. Ye have a fair grip on my hand there" and he tried to pull his hand from her tighten grip. He raised an eyebrow at her.

Claire just about fell out of her chair. It was like looking at Jamie when John did that. "Did you say you brought your family bible with you? Here to the hospital?" she asked and started to stand. She had to see it. She had to touch it. She had to know...

"Aye," John said scrunching his eyebrows together in worry. "Are ye alright lass?"

"Mr. Murrrrray, sssir" Mary said as she entered the room carrying a tray. "I have a llooovley luuunch for yoouuu."

Claire took the tray from Mary. Mary unfolded the little legs underneath the tray and Claire set it down over John's lap. She removed the metal cover from the plate and revealed a nicely roasted piece of chicken, thigh and leg, roasted small potatoes, green beans and a hard roll. There was tea to drink. Claire opened the cloth napkin, revealing the knife, fork and spoon.

"Would you prefer coffee with your noon meal, John?" Claire asked. It took everything she could muster to keep her voice even and calm. She scanned the room while she waited for John to answer. The knowing was so close, in this very room. That book would have answers to Jamie perhaps although John said it did not show when Jamie died. It might now. Now that Jamie had passed through the stones. "What? I'm sorry John. What do you need?" and she turned her focus back to the job at hand.

"I said, Claire, the bible is under my jacket over there in that chair..." and he watched her face as he said it. He noticed how her eyes seemed to light up when he had mentioned Lallybroch. And now again with the knowledge that the family bible was here with him.


	16. Chapter 16 - Homeward Bound

Je Suis Prest - Homeward Bound

Frank pulled into the parking area and stopped. He went to the boot, opened it and handed Jamie the weapons, not knowing which were Murtagh's or his. He watched as Jamie and Murtagh sorted them out and belted, buckled and tucked every one of them into place then adjusted them so the weight and position were just so. It would not do for one of them to reach for a weapon and not have it right where it should be. He realized just how dangerous and volatile a time it was they were voluntarily going back to. For Jamie, with a price on his head, every day brought the possibility of arrest or even death at the hands of British Soldiers that hunted him, such as his own family relation, Captain Jonathon Wolverton Randall of his Majesty's Eight Dragoons. Both Murtagh and Jamie had referred to his highly esteemed family member as Black Jack Randall. Both had pronounced the name with hatred seeped in a person knowledge of the man. Both men had in fact, tried to run him personally, through with a sword when they each first encountered him thinking he was, in fact, this very same family relation. It had shocked him when Jamie told of how he had come to have those marks on his back. Made by, what all his research led him to believe was, an honorable man, the very man he acquired his own middle name from. The Captain was a family legend. It made him realize just how little of the actual person you learn about when you find a family name recorded. History doesn't always record the facts. You barely touch the surface of understanding the person, certainly never their soul. Jamie had opened his eyes to how very little one knows of the person that resides behind the name. Talk about your proverbial skeletons in the closet.

When Jamie and Murtagh go back through the stones there was no telling what would be waiting on the other side; they needed to be prepared for anything. It was right at that very moment that Frank realized how very much he admired Jamie. He reminded himself that Jamie was barely a man, only 22, and yet held the wisdom and leadership skills that matched and in some ways exceeded his very own. Jamie was almost 20 years his junior and Frank had extensive military training during the war; he held a Captain's rank and MI6 clearance as well as a Doctorate in Jacobite History. Jamie had tutors growing up he'd said, but only a year of formal education, briefly in France, yet he spoke and read four languages that he, himself, was personally aware of. Jamie had experienced so much loss and pain yet shouldered so much responsibility. Now with the added knowledge of what he knew of Bonnie Prince Charles and that fateful day at Culloden, he bore new responsibilities on top of it all. Jamie, as a Laird, would go back to take care of what was his, his family, the farm, the tenants, neighbors and friends. There was not a moments hesitation in his decision. So much honor invested in the choice. Many a man would cower under the weight of that decision, choose not go back, would think solely of their own safety rather than return and fight for the lives of others, armed with the knowledge that you would most likely fail or die trying.

"I do'na ken why we are no bringing the lass Jamie," Murtagh made one last attempt. "Frank, I'm sure would run this machine of his back and fetch her..." he stated rather than asked. The lass should be come'n, that's all he ken, know'n the way Jamie felt about her and all. It just felt wrong no have'n her with them, like a piece was miss'n. This lass completed his godson. Jamie had been wandering aimlessly, searching for something. Murtagh never ken what, but whatever it was, the lad had finally found it, that missing piece, in this sassenach. The look he received from Jamie made him stop talk'n. He finished adjusting his sword and dirk and walked away from the machine.

Frank understood Jamie's decision, where Murtagh did not. Jamie loved Claire enough to need to keep her safe. Her safety was paramount. If he could, Frank knew Jamie would return to Claire. Frank, a studier of history, also understood that Jamie would never be coming back. He believed Jamie knew that as well.

Claire, Frank thought. What of Claire? Jamie had given him no last minute instructions concerning her. How odd.

"Mrs. Graham said they would be here about an hour before dawn and sun should rise at 6 am. It's 4:30 am now so we have just enough time to climb to the stone circle and find a place to hide ourselves. Mrs. Graham said we can not let the others know we are here" Frank repeated. "They are a secret coven, none of the town folk know about them. The ladies would not want to risk being found out or recognized." According to Reverend Wakefield, most of the town knew of the coven, who was a part of it and though they would never admit it, they were proud of their local witches. Let the ladies have their little secret the Reverend had advised Frank.

Mrs. Graham had also said that their ceremony would open the stones, call to the sun to bring the next season, yes, but they also would be unlocking the stones, to open them, allowing travel for those that heard the stones call. She said that might have been how Jamie and Murtagh had come through; druids might have opened the stones on the other side. They might have just been at the right place at the wrong time, so to speak.

Frank personally thought Master Raymond had something to do with all this. Deep down inside Frank thought the guy was just a little creepy. And very, very dodgy. And vague. The man never really answered any of Frank's direct questions; he was always so ambiguous with his responses. Once Frank had asked the man, as a bit of a test, if the sky were blue and the bloody man went on for half an hour about which color of blue Frank might be referring to...and started naming all the different colors and various shades. Was Frank, perhaps, speaking of an Egyptian or Cerulean blue that always seemed to be the color of a sky over water or maybe more of a Sapphire or Cobalt which always took ones breath away after a rain storm? Perhaps Frank had meant a Turquoise blue like the Starlings eggs or Azure, but that was really more the color of water rather than sky. Proof, Frank thought, that Raymond was indeed a bit of a strange beast. Raymond raised more questions than he ever answered, in Frank's humble opinion.

Frank really did not much care for the interest Raymond displayed in Claire either. He was always hovering about when she was little. Not that he had personally witnessed most of the visits, just things that Lambert had said in passing. When Claire and Lambert were in Peru, at a dig isolated high in the Andes at _Machu Picchu,_ Master Raymond had arrived to help with Claire's adjustment to Henry and Julia's deaths, distracting her by starting her lessons, mostly in botany, Lambert had said. Why would the man make a trip to a destination, that by ship, canoe, pack mule, and hiking took almost a month of travel to reach, for a child he had never met, to help a friend he hardly knew? Then once again while living in the Jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico at the _Chichen Itza_ site, Raymond had arrived and began to teach Claire French, of all things, as well as continued botany lessons. That one made little sense as well, the travel was less lengthy and less involved, true. Simply a ship to the Port of Progreso, just outside Merida and then pack mule to the actual site. Two weeks travel at the most. Yet the man started to teach her French. When was Claire going to need that? There were no current digs going on in France. Lambert was vague with his answers to his questions concerning Master Raymond. Frank felt like he was protecting Raymond for some reason. Lambert had never told him much specifically about Raymond either. How old was Master Raymond? Where was he was from? How did Lambert and Raymond first meet? Lambert never answered any of them, always dodged the question, gave vague replies or had to leave abruptly, to talk to one of the interns...

Frank had met Master Raymond, up until last night, only once, when he had spent that summer in Egypt on Lambert's dig site. Claire was about 8 and he had just turned 21 and working on his Masters. She was a wild, independent thing even at such a young age. She could hold her own in an adult conversation, she drank her coffee black and strong, took shots of whiskey and rolled and lit Lambert's cigarettes for him. She saw to the meals and laundry and was already helping to catalog finds. He would put money on a bet she had already had her first kiss as well; that very thought had made him jealous, much like the moment he realized Jamie had won Claire's heart. He sighed. He had thought she was beautiful even then, a little pervy, he knew, but that's how he felt; he never told anyone. Master Raymond had been almost cavalier with him; kept calling him Captain instead of Frank or Randall, making reference to a rank he would not hold for another 10 years, until Britain entered WW2. What was that all about? Raymond watched him like an elephant protecting its calf. No teeth or claws, but ever alert, flapping it's ears and kicking up dust in an effort to protect Claire. It's like the old man knew he was having impure thoughts about her. Like he had told himself, the guy was creepy.

He had been very jealous of the hold the man had over Claire's attention that summer. They would speak only in French, a language all to themselves, as no one else in camp understood a word of it except _Bonjour._ Yet here was Master Raymond, a chemist by trade, at a major dig in Egypt, spending time with young 8 year old girl, unrelated to him. He and Lambert running secretly around the camp like a couple of frat boys whispering and disappearing into the pyramid for hours at time. They moving things in and out of Lambert's tent when Claire was asleep. And then one morning Raymond was just gone. No explanation given. No sign of him, like he had never been there. The same had been true of his arrival. One morning, he just appeared in camp. Both wholly unconnected with any of the arriving or departing camel caravans and a stranger would need a caravan as a guide to find the dig site or Cairo.

Jamie looked at Frank. Just standing there staring. Jamie turned to see what held the man's fascination. Nothing, except trees, brush and pitch black. It was like the man was in a trance, staring off into no where.

Murtagh approached. "What's the man staring at?" he asked.

"I do'na ken, but we best interrupt his thoughts and get move'n before the ladies arrive and find us, aye?"

Murtagh waved a hand in front of the man's face. No reaction. Nothing. Not even the blink of a eye. He grabbed hold of his shoulder and the man shrieked like a wee mouse. This was no soldier, that was the truth of it, he thought to himself.

"Come," Jamie said. "I think I remember the way. We need to be moving" and off he strode.

Murtagh turned and followed Jamie.

"They must be part Mountain Goat" Frank muttered under his breath as he stumbled for the hundredth time. "How the hell can they see where they are going in the pitch dark with absolutely no light from a torch, stars or moon?" Frank was quite sure he was going to fall and break his neck. Then what would those Bloody Scottish Bastards do when he was dead?" He would ask them if he ever caught up with them. He could not even see them anymore. How the hell did they know where they were going anyway? Could they smell the Bloody Stones?

Huffing and puffing, Frank finally found himself in what appeared to be the center of the stone circle. Neither Highlander was anywhere in sight. "Jamie?" Frank whispered and turned a full 360° circle looking for him. Nothing. "Murtagh?" He tried again. Nothing. Not a sound. No movement. Where the hell could they have gone? Suddenly there is a hand over his mouth and another on his shoulder. He tries to shout and struggle but he was held firmly in place.

"Shussh, and stop struggling ye wee grommel," Jamie whispered in his ear. "Someone else has been up here, recent too" and he relaxed his grip on Frank.

Frank turns, eye wide in fear. "How do you know someone is here?" he whispers back.

"Can ye no smell man?" Jamie replied. "Someone's been burning wee herbs and such. Can ye no smell the smoke?"

Frank gently sniffed the air. Nothing. He shook his head. He took a deeper breath. Still nothing, and shook his head _No_ again.

"Tsssst" Jamie hissed. "Ye'll never been any kind of hunter. Are ye sure we have no missed the bana-bhuidseach?" _witches_

"No the ladies have no come yet. I have walked the outside of the circle. Someone has most certainly been here, Jamie. Recently too. I think there was more than one. One walked the outside of the circle, looks to have stopped at each of the stones. Then two circled the inside, burning whatever it was they were burning."

Frank jumped at the sound of Murtagh's voice. He had no idea he was here as well. "Now how can you possibly know that. It's too bloody dark to see the hand right in front of my face. There is no way in hell, you can see footprints on rocks" Frank said in a clear speaking voice. "You two are bloody making things up just to try and scare me. I won't fall for it, do you hear me? So just stop all this Tom-Foolery."

"Who's Tomas Foller?" Jamie inquired.

"What?" Frank said. "No, no, no. Tom-Foolery is an expression, not a who. Never mind. We need to find a place to safely hide. We can puzzle out who has been here while we wait."

"Over this way," Murtagh motioned as he walked away. "There is a cluster of trees and bushes. We won't be seen beneath all that and it affords us a good view of the stones.

Before they had even settled, the ladies started to arrive. All three men just watched silently. None of them had witnessed anything like it. There must have been 15 or 16 women. Frank had a difficult time counting them because they kept moving about. All had arrived in light, flowing gowns. Some were completely covered in the thin material, but three, younger, more youthful women wore a single shouldered gown, leaving one breast exposed. They had some sort of vine woven in a circle, a wreath that they wore on their heads like crowns. They each had a torch. Looked like a thick stick or branch that had something wrapped around the top, that was lit, on fire. He had not idea what flammable substance they had used to light the torches. He expected to smell petrol but did not. The women walked a dance, with set steps. If one was looking down from a tree, you could probably discern the pattern but from where Frank sat, he could not make it out. Nor did he understand one word in the songs or chants.

He recognized Mrs. Graham, very solemn she was; she obviously took this druid stuff seriously. He would remember when he thanked her for the groups help, not to tease her. He hoped this worked for Jamie and Murtagh's sake. Toward the end, and thank God because his legs were starting to cramp from crouching so long in one position, Mrs. Graham approached the large center stone, the one with the large crack, raised her arms and began to chant. The others formed two rows of a semi-circle behind her and repeated only some of the words. The ceremony ended when the sun rose over the hill. The women almost immediately walked away from the stones and down the hill, back to their cars and home. Very little conversation was going on amongst them. As the women walked away, Jamie stood up and quietly crept from their hiding spot. Murtagh and Frank followed.

"Do you hear that?" Raymond turned and asked Lambert with alarm in his voice.

"I hear nothing," Lambert replied. "Oh wait I hear Jamie and Murtagh conversing...is that what you mean?"

"No, my friend. You were right, this coven is strong. They have made a crack in my magic. The stones they are whispering. We need to stop them from touching the stone. I am not sure my magic will keep them here. The stones will let them pass, I am almost sure. We must do something my friend. It is imperative Madonna stays in this time. It is a mistake for them to go back to his time. The baby needs to be born here.

Lambert jumps to his feet and runs the distance to the stones, leaving Raymond still hidden in the brush.

"Do ye hear that Jamie? The bees are buzzing... just like the night we came." Murtagh commented as they slowly approached the center stone. They were cautious, almost guarded in their approach. Slowly stalking toward the stone, hands on their weapons, at the ready. Watching and looking like they thought perhaps the British Soldiers would come jumping out from behind the stone and attack them.

"No, Murtagh, I hear nothing but the breeze through the trees." The sun was full up now. It was easy to see in all directions.

Jamie turned to Frank, who was standing at the edge of the circle, having not stepped inside. "How do we do this, Frank?" he asked. "Does one touch it and then the other or do we need to touch it together?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders in response. "I have no idea," he said. "I don't hear any bees either. Maybe we should be asking Murtagh, since they seem to be talking to him" and Frank looked directly at Murtagh. "How did you manage it the first time? To come through before? You said you fell?"

"Aye," Murtagh replied. "I had hold of Jamie's arm. I was trying to pull ye up on the horse, remember?" he said looking at Jamie. "The horse fell and when I woke up I was over there in the brush... and he pointed and saw Lambert running up waving his arms.

At the sight of Murtagh, Lambert yelled "STOP!".

Jamie immediately looked passed Lambert for a glimpse of Claire, for surely that is why Lambert was here running up the hill to stop them. He did'na see her. He walked a couple of steps in Lambert's direction, looking passed the man, expecting his sassenach to magically appear running toward him. He actually held his arms out in anticipation. His heartbeat raced as he scanned down the slope of the hill and felt a sharp pain of sadness enter his heart when he realized Claire was no with him. She had not come. He lowered his gaze as he lowered his arms. No more Claire, he thought sadly. He could not be mad at her, he had no one to blame but himself. He had told her emphatically _No_ and he stood firmly by that decision right up until this very moment. His heart wanted her by his side, always. But his heid ken the choice he had made was the right one, the only one for her. She belonged here. She was safe here. She would be in danger if she had gone back with him. He would not risk her safety, her life, just because he loved her with everything he had. Because he loved her so very much, he had to leave her here, even if it broke his own heart to do it.

Lambert was bent over, panting in front of Jamie. Murtagh walked over and placed a hand on the auld man's back. He had no idea who this man was, had never seen him before, but Jamie seemed to ken him and the auld man certainly ken Jamie. "There there, auld man, take it easy, get ye breath. We'll wait, ye ken."

"Claire?" Jamie asked. "Is she with ye, Lambert? Did she come?" Jamie asked.

"She isn't with you?" Lambert answered in shock and looked at the three men but saw no Claire. "Claire said she was going back with you, Jamie. To be with you. She would have the baby in your time, at Lallybroch, she told me. She assured me everything would be alright. That you would take care of her and the child. Love them both."

"Baby?" Exclaimed Jamie and definitely looked confused.

"Bairn?" Smiled Murtagh then turned to Jamie with a much sterner look and asked, "Ye've bedded the sassenach?"

Jamie nodded.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow in an unasked question concerning marriage...

Jamie shook his head no and opened his mouth to explain...

When Frank whispered sadly, "Claire's pregnant?"

Jamie, Murtagh and Lambert all turned and looked at Frank.

"Oh, right. Like no one here knows I have been in love with that woman my entire life. Since I met her in Egypt. You knew that Lambert" and Frank shot Lambert a look of knowing. "Jamie certainly knew I was... very... desirous... of Claire... the very night we met. Murtagh, alright, Murtagh might not have known" and Frank threw his hands up in disgust.

"Oh I ken. I just also ken how much she loves Jamie, and no you, so I did'na worry so much, is all." Murtagh explained.

"Pregnant?" Jamie looked questioningly at Frank. "What is pregnant, Frank?"

"She is with child, Jamie. Apparently yours" he said with yet still a note of sadness in his voice. "I mean, I'm happy for you... you and Claire..." and he just stopped. Stopped trying to explain. He let it go.

Jamie turned to Lambert. "How do you ken? That she is with child? My bairn... how do you ken?" Jamie asked.

"Women know these things, Jamie. Plus there are tests that can be done to confirm it." Lambert explained.

"Tests? Confirm? I don't understand these words, friend Lambert." Jamie inquired. "What are tests? What does that mean?"

"Doctors can take some blood from Claire and look at it. Her blood will tell them if she is pregnant or not. She was going to have that done at the hospital, just to confirm it." he said with a smile. "Confirm means... establish, affirm, certify, authenticate."

"Authenticate, aye I ken that word. Affirm as well." Jamie said. "Her belly is still flat, so the test will let us ken if she is with bairn before her belly starts to show us?" He turned and smiled at Murtagh. "Claire is with child, Murtagh. I'm to be a da, after all" and both men smiled and embraced, thumping each other hard on the back. "My Claire...my bairn..." Jamie whispered.

"Ye did no marry the lass, Jamie? No even hand-fast? Tssst!" Murtagh said as he clicked his tongue. "AND, ye were gon'na leave her ta boot? What were ye think'n?"

Murtagh turned to Frank. "Is there still time to fetch the lass?"

"NO!" Jamie turned to Frank, stated firmly and held up a hand to stop him. "Frank, stay where ye are. He then turned and placed his hand firmly on Murtagh's shoulder. "No, Murtagh, the woman I love, with the whole of my heart is carrying my bairn. She can'na pass through the stones. I won't risk them." He stopped for a moment and looked down at the ground, allowing a single tear to fall. He looked back up and continued, "I can'na stay. My calling is to go back and try to stop Culloden, save as much of Scotland as I am able... but you, a charaid, you... I will ask you to stay. To protect what is mine, until I can find a way to return to mo chridhe. You will do this for me, because I ask ye, aye?" and he looked directly at Murtagh, locking eyes.

"No, Jamie. My place is at ye side. Beside ye in battle. No sit'n watch over some woman that's no even ye wife and ye unborn bairn. Frank here can do that for ye. I am must go with ye. I promised Ellen, ye ken that."

"Aye, I ken your promise to my mam, Murtagh. To watch over and protect me always before she died. And ye have, faithfully, for twenty-two years now. I could'na ask for anyone better. Now I must ask ye ta do the same for me, to give me ye pledge to watch over mine. Because I must go, and we both ken, I probably will'na be come'n back. Watch over them, as ye would me," he said and gently squeezed and shook Murtagh shoulder in emphasis.

Murtagh straightened his back, squared his shoulders and looked Ellen's son straight in the eye, stated with strength and firmness, "Aye, Jamie. Ellen and Brian would be proud of the man ye've become. Except for bedding the lass with'oot marry'n her first. That ye mam and da are turn'n in their graves about."

Jamie turned and approached the stone, his hand extended. Just before he touched the stone, he whispered, "I love ye Mo Neighan Donn. Now and forever, ye are my heart. Name the lad after my da... and he placed his fingers against the cold stone.

No one noticed Raymond had entered the circle and was whispering enchantments.


	17. Chapter 17 - A Drink'n We Will Go

Je Suis Prest – A Drink'n We Will Go.

Claire ran her fingers over his name one last time, making a mental image of the yellowing page, the fading of the ink, and the actual quill strokes of each and every letter that made his name... _James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser._ She wondered whether it was Ellen or Brian that wrote the name; it seemed to be the same artistically flowing lines of ink that lovingly created each of the first three children's names, but a different script wrote the fourth, the name of the baby that died in birth. She then closed the rather large, leather bound book with a sigh. Her fingers danced over the ornately carved cover and spine, reading the lettering like braille. This Bible was three centuries old but had been devotedly cared for and beautifully maintained. It was in excellent shape for it's age. The detail in the embellished illustrations and gold leaf was phenomenal. Museum quality, no question. She had never seen another like it. She closed her eyes and held the book against her chest, stroking the soft leather like it was Jamie's fine red curls. She listened as her heart told her everything was going to be alright, to just believe, to have faith. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Claire turned to John and said "Thank you so much for sharing your family with me today. This is an amazing book. A family heirloom if ever there were one." With great reluctance, she slowly placed it back on the felt covering, re-wrapped it and tied the ribbons with great care, like she was diapering the bum of a new born infant for the first time. She then returned it to the chair she had fetched it from. "It truly is an historical document. You are very lucky your family took such prestigious care of it over the centuries."

"Aye " John said. "Many a lonely night I have spent sitting at the great desk in the _Laird's Study_ combing it's pages. There are notes by some of the verse, passages someone was fond of, perhaps. Several people by the looks of the handwriting. There are several different styles. It looks as if the book itself was a gift from an Alexander Fraser. There is a brief note we found tucked in the back of the book. We traced him to a monastery in France where he was an Abbott about the time Ellen and Brian Fraser were married. He was probably a relation of some sort. Quite a wedding gift, aye? If ye like books, there is also quite a collection of Romance Novels from the early 1700's as well. Someone was sure keen on them. They have been well read over the years; they have lot of wear and tear to them." John winked and we both smiled.

"Well, it was a treat for me" Claire explained to John. "My parents both died when I was very young so I have no siblings. My mother was an only child and my father's one surviving brother is a confirmed bachelor so I don't have much family history of my own, I'm afraid. Your family sounds very special. The stories you shared brought them to life for me. Thank you, again, for the rare and wonderful treat. You could not have picked a better day to show me that book of yours" and Claire nodded her head toward the chair where it rested. "The fact that the book goes all the way back to 1712 and the marriage of Brian Fraser to Ellen MacKenzie, is absolutely amazing."

"When you first heard me call the farm _Lallybroch,_ I had the feeling the name meant something to ye. There was a look in ye eye. When ye finally found the time to look at the Bible, I sensed ye were look'n for something specific. Ye must not have found what ye were after" John said and reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Well, you know," Claire started, "A great many people find answers in that Book" and she nodded toward the chair again. "I did not, however, find an answer to the one I was hoping for. That does not necessarily make it a bad thing, I think. I will consider our meeting today very fortuitous indeed and it is that book and your family history that has brought us together and given us a shared bond. You and I neither have family now, yet because of the book, we have found each other. Perhaps we are our own very unique Clan of two." She winked and squeezed his hand back.

"Aye, I rather like that, Claire." John said looking up from the hand he held hers in. "You can'na be part of Clan Murray, unless ye marry me," and he winked playfully at her, "and no one would believe a Clan Beachamp" he said smiling. "How 'bout we be Clan Fraser. We'll be the survivors from James Fraser, should he have had a family of his own. How would that be for ye?"

Claire squeezed John's hand very hard this time and blinked rapidly to keep away the tears she could feel forming. "I'd like that just fine, John, _Mo_ _brathair_. Did I pronounce that correctly?" she asked a bit sheepishly.

"See, I ken ye have a little Scottish in ye, lass. I am honored, _a charaid_."

Both of them began to cry and laugh at the same time, just a little and verra, verra softly and for totally different reasons.

A few moments later Claire stood up and smoothed the front of her nurse's uniform.

"Oh, ye have to be running off then? A sweetheart waiting for ye, I expect." John said teasingly.

"No, John. No sweetheart. The lad I have a bit of a crush on left early this morning. I don't suppose I'll see him again, either. I guess I am all alone." Claire said with a sigh.

"Ye have me lass, and our wee Clan, always" and he smiled a most endearing smile. "Well, if ye will hand me my coat, I have my wallet in the inside breast pocket. I will pay ye back for the things ye picked up for me at the chemists while ye were at lunch. I can'na thank ye enough for ye kindness to an aulde man today. You have been wonderful company."

"I enjoyed myself as well, John. I will stop in to see you again tomorrow, though I won't be able to spend all day with you, as I did today. I will be back on my regular shift. I'll try to remember and bring a deck of cards then you can teach me Gin Rummy over lunch." Claire smiled and walked to the door. Before she left the room, she turned back and said, "You and your book have made my heart rest easier and that in and of itself is a gift. Thank you again, John. Have a good night" and she left the room, picked up her sweater, purse and hat from her locker and made her way home.

"Hello the flat!" Claire called as she closed the door behind her. Silence. She stooped and picked the mail up off the floor and set it on the table by the door, along with her purse. She hung her sweater up in the closet. On her way to her bedroom, she stopped in the bathroom and started to run herself a bath. She came back several minutes later with a glass of wine and one of her peanut butter and honey sandwiches. She was down to her slip when the telephone rang. Who could that be she wondered and she walked out to the hall to answer it.

"Hello? Claire Beauchamp speaking" she said into the phone.

"Claire!" Frank practically shouted.

"I am not deaf, Frank. No need to shout. Where are you?" Claire answered back. Where ever it was, it was loud and full of people.

"You... come... Clachanharry's ... a pint... all ... having …. pint." She was having trouble hearing him. He must be moving the phone away from his face because she was missing a lot of what he said. "Lam.. here... ma... ray... too... jam... mur... darts... come... fish... chips... supper" Frank screamed into the phone so loudly Claire had to hold the receiver away from her ear.

"No Frank. Thanks, not tonight. I'm not very good company right now. I am going to run a hot bath, have a drink, eat something and go to bed. Thanks for thinking of me" and not waiting for a reply from Frank, she hung up the phone and walked back to the bathroom.

Before she could say licky-split the phone rang again.

She walked back and picked up the receiver. "What now Frank?" Claire questioned.

"Claire, don't hang up. Don't run a bath. Come down to the Pub. We can commiserate together. You need to come and I desperately need you here. Besides, you know you want to know what happened at the stones, don't you? The only way you are going to is if you come have a drink with me and I tell you." Frank said and it sounded like he giggled and shushed someone. "I'd come pick you up but I'm too drunk to drive, I'm afraid."

"Jesus, Frank" Claire said. "Just how much have you had to drink? How long have you been at the pub? I'm not really up for this tonight. Maybe tomorrow, please."

"Been here since we left the stones this morning. Came straight away. Come on Clllaaaire. You don't need a soak. Come have a drink with meeee, please. I have a surrrprrrissse for you." Frank teased and then hung up the phone, not give her a chance to say _No_.

So much for a long, lonely, mind numbingly, hot soak. Claire turned off the water and let the tub drain.

Three quarters of an hour later Claire walked into Clachanharry's wearing comfortable slacks, penny loafers and her Irish sweater. No bra but no one would be able to tell under the bulky, loose fitting sweater. She removed her jacket and hat and looked around the bar. She spied Lambert, and Master Raymond, at a large table off to the side.

Lambert saw Claire walk in, stood and waved her over. She stopped a small blonde barmaid and told her she'd have a whiskey, neat, and when she reached the table she leaned over and gave her uncle a quick peck on the cheek. "This is a pleasant surprise," she said smiling at both Lambert and Raymond. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to her uncle. She laid her coat, hat and purse in her lap and set her hand on top of Lamb's and brushed her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. She'd stay for one drink and then go back to the flat. She was exhausted and really was not up for this much noise and confusion. Not tonight; she really wanted to be alone.

"Where's Frank?" Claire asked looking at Lambert and Raymond, both sitting there staring at her with huge grins on their faces. They looked like two Cheshire cats.

"Teaching a friend to play darts," Lambert said and nudged Raymond, none too subtly. They both giggled.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ" Claire exclaimed. "Are you all drunk then? Please tell me you all are not drinking on empty stomachs. Have you eaten anything since last night? If you all went up to the stones, I'll bet none of you ate breakfast, did you?"

The barmaid brought her drink and Claire inquired "Have they," and she pointed at Lamb and Raymond, "have they had anything to eat since they arrived?"

"Not since I came on at noon." the barmaid answered.

"Well, would you bring me a couple of meat pies and two orders of fish and chips to start... I think I'd better get some food in them."

"Aye Miss, I'll put the order in." and the little blonde tossed her hair and walked away. Not toward the kitchen, either.

"Honestly Lamb. You know you should have eaten something... And just why did you not make Frank come back and fetch me this morning, when you realized they gone to the stones without me?" Claire asked in a slightly reprimanding tone. "I really would have expected... Claire stopped abruptly when two large, very masculine, hands firmly grabbed her shoulders from behind.

"About time ye show'd up, lass... I was beginning to think ye din'na care te see..."

Claire just about gave herself whiplash as she turned her head as fast as she could in an attempt to see if her ears were playing tricks on her. They weren't. Her eyes landed on Murtagh. "Murtagh?" she questioned as she stumbled from her chair, letting her coat and hat fall to the floor. She held out her trembling hand, needing to touch him, feel him, to prove to herself he was not a ghost. "It's... it's really you..?" and when her fingers touched his face she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly.

Murtagh gently put his arms around Claire and held her trembling body. "Aye, I'm glad ta see ye as well lass. See'n ye is like finding an early rose hidden among the snow and thorns."

Claire did not release Murtagh from her embrace but leaned her head back to get a good look at him. "Murtagh Fraser, you old softy, you. I never would have pegged you for a poet. Who was the lucky lass that won your heart? Please tell me she did not break it?" Claire cocked her head and smiled at him.

"You Claire. You stole my heart, in less than a day, lass. Much like ye did my godson's" he said placing a hand on her cheek. "I think of ye, maybe, as the daughter I never had" Murtagh said with a smile. "Jamie had me stay. Said he would no leave his heart here unprotected"

"He would not leave his heart here unprotected?" Her whispered voice cracked as she repeated what Murtagh had just said. "Me? I am his heart?" and a tear rolls down her cheek. "Then Jamie is gone? He made it through? He went back? Alone?" Claire asked with panic in her voice. Her eyes searching his face for answers. "I will have Frank look for him straight away. Where is Frank?" Her eyes scanning the room. "The man is never around when I need him."

Murtagh thought about what to tell the lass, how to say what needed to be said, to ease the lass's aching heart. "Jamie tried" he started. "He touched the stone, but found they would no take him, ye see. I can hear them, but he can'na. Master Raymond said they might worked for me, but I was no go'n ta leave ye both here alone. Ye need me too much. Who else would look after the two of ye? So lass, it looks like ye are stuck with a pair of muckle-heided Frasers. Will ye have us?" Murtagh asked as he raised an eyebrow in question.

"He's here? Jamie? Truly?" she asked, her heart leaping to her throat. "Oh God, yes, I'll have you. Both of you" and she kissed the tip of his nose, then her eyes immediately looked over his shoulder for Jamie. A tall red-headed Scot would be hard to miss, even in this pub, but she didn't see him. She looked back at Murtagh with the question written all over her face... Jamie, where is he?

"Do'na ye worry none, he's here" and he motioned his head to the back of the bar. "Frank thought he was teaching Jamie how te play darts... I thinks it's Frank that's gett'n the lesson. We had to do somethin'n to distract Jamie. He was go'n loon wait'n for ye. Come with me," and he held out his hand, "I'll take ye to him."

Claire looked at Murtagh. "He's really here? He didn't go back?"

Murtagh nodded.

Claire threw her arms around Murtagh again and sobbed quietly in his neck

Murtagh leaned his face into her hair and hugged her tight. This lass was special. He ken what Jamie saw in her. It must have ripped the lad's heart from his chest to find the courage to leave her. He understood Jamie's behavior last night now. He raised his eyes and whispered "Thank you." When she finally stopped her sobs and relaxed a little in his arms, he pulled back and said, "Come, let's find Jamie." The smile on the lass's face said it all.

Claire turned, took a swallow from the glass of liquid courage the barmaid had given her, placed her hand in Murtagh's and allowed him to lead her to the back of the bar and around a corner where the dart boards were found. No wonder she hadn't been able to find Jamie before. When they turned the corner her eyes found him immediately. His wavy mop of red hair was easily seen 2-3 inches above the rest of the group. Just the sight of the back of that man's head made her heart start to race and her breathing shorten.

Jamie's back was to them and he was surrounded by a small crowd of mostly men. More than half of them were cheering him on. The room had 3 dart boards, one on each wall. Jamie was playing the board directly ahead of them. Neither of the other two boards were being used at present. Everyone seemed to be watching the match that Jamie was involved in. "He has two more darts to throw and then he'll stop and find us. He won't play now he kens ye're here. We need Jamie to finish this match since we all have money ride'n on him" Murtagh said. "We stand to make a fair amount of coin. He was beside himself with worry about ye, wanted to go straight to hospital and find ye when we returned to the flat and found ye were gone. We ken ye would'na want that, us show'n up at your work, unannounced. We needed to find someth'n to distract him, lass, until you'd come te us. That's how we ended up at the pub. Frank was distracting Jamie, teach'n him how te play and some of the English at the pub thought Jamie'd be an easy mark, so te speak. We've got a wee bet go'n now. The British lads thought they'd make some money off the nubbly-heided Scots, figured Jamie would not pick up the game quickly. They do'na ken Jamie like you and I do, aye? The lad acted confused over the first game and they thought his win was just a bit of luck, but he has been steadily beating each and every one of 'em since. Now their pride is hurt so they keep raise'n the stakes and insulting Jamie, like they think it will shake Jamie's fortitude. Someone called for reinforcements, _a ringer,_ I believe is the term Frank used, from another bar. Jamie's already beaten him twice... This last one is double the money or nothing. "the English do'na even ken they never stood a chance," Murtagh shook his head and chuckled.

"And just which side is our dear little Frank on? Ours, I trust" Claire turned, looked at Murtagh and tried to raise an eyebrow, in a failed attempt at mimicking Jamie. Instead she had to resort to using a fingertip to raise her eyebrow. Her efforts almost cost Jamie his win. Poor Murtagh let loose a burst of laughter just before Jamie made his second toss.

Jamie did not turn and look but stopped until Murtagh regained his control. Why the sudden outburst he wondered. Then he smelled the air and caught her scent. She was here. He sighed, audibly. His godfather was near and dear to his heart, but was not what one would consider a jovial man. Murtagh's laugh told him everything was going to be alright. Claire would forgive him. Oh, he ken he would have to be canny when he approached her; that there would be a loud discussion about his choice to leave her but that her heart was his and all would be right, if he handled this correctly. He would. He would not loose her.

Claire started to tremble again as she stood there watching him, like a puppy anticipating it's favorite treat.

Claire knew that she should turn around, stomp back, grab her coat and hat and leave. When Jamie was returning to his own time, his refusal to take her with him, cut her to the core; she was so hurt and angry. In allowing that anger envelope her, she had squandered the precious last hours, minutes and seconds she could have spent loving him instead of hating him. She had sworn this morning, if she were given an second chance and Jamie ever returned to her, she would not waste a moment being angry, but recognize and acknowledge the gift of his return and be forever grateful for it. She might not like the choices he made but she had to certainly understand and respect his reasoning for making them. He had left not because he didn't love her, but out of honor. He had left her behind because he wanted to keep her safe. So much so he left his godfather behind as well, to look after her, because he could not. She could never stay angry with a man that loved her that deeply and completely. He was back. She would count her lucky stars that they had this second chance. She was not going to squander a moment of it being angry. She would however, have a serious talk with him concerning some of his priorities.

"Shussh," Murtagh whispered. "He's play'n for money. He'll be done in two tosses."

Claire felt the shivers run down her spine. He had stayed. He didn't go back was all she could think about. He was still here. She had to touch him. She wiggled her fingers in anticipation of grabbing him, running her fingers through his hair... She moved her weight from one foot to the other and pulled at her sweater. She turned to look and made sure Murtagh was really beside her, that she wasn't dreaming.

"Aye, it's him. He's really here, lass. Just give him a second..." Murtagh explained in a quiet voice and placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "He's been dancing like a nervous colt, the verra same way as you, wait'n for you to come. We've finally gotten him settled and distracted. Let him win and then he's yours. We won't ask anything more of him once he finishes this game. The coin is too good to pass on... it's the English we're wallop'n, lass" and he grinned.

"Double or noth'n Jamie hits the bullseye on this next toss" said a brown haired man in trousers and a flannel work shirt. "Any takers?"

People shouted and last minute wages were made, then someone said "Quiet. The lad needs quiet" and just as quickly, the room became still.

Jamie took a deep breath, smelling the air, once again for Claire, smiled and adjusted his stance.

"Oh better look out, Jamie's smiling..." the brown haired man said, and grinning himself ear to ear.

Jamie pulled his hand back to his ear and then flicked his wrist forward and let the dart fly.

"BULLSEYE" the room erupted into cheers. Mayhem ensued.

Jamie took a bow. The brown haired man, with a bonnet in his hands, walked the semi-circle around Jamie and people, mostly cursing, dropped money into it. "That's right," the brown haired man said, "Like taken candy from a baby. A English Baby, that is."

"Now he needs the to hit the double to win or his score goes back..." Someone yelled.

Without stopping to think or adjust, Jamie brought his hand back, flicked his wrist and let the last dart fly. It hit the double needed. Jamie, took the bonnet from the brown haired man, reached in and removed a fist full of coins from it. He handed them back to the brown haired man. "I thank ye for your support, friends. My lady is here and I think she wants to have a word with me. She might be a wee mad at me, so I think it best I no keep her waiting. Simon, if you please, will distribute the winnings." and he turned, made a sweeping bow to his English opponent and the rest of the British collective and then completed his turn and looked right at her.

As angry and upset as Claire had been at one time, it all melted away the moment she saw his face and she quickly crossed the distance, right into his open arms.

"So just what have you been up to?" Claire asked looking up at Jamie, arms still around his neck as the kiss ended.

"Frank has been teaching me how to play darts," Jamie said. "For money." And he kissed Claire deeply again.

"Oh he has, has he?" Claire said when they separated for air, looked over at Frank, who had his arm around Murtagh's shoulder, leaning on him in order to remain upright. They were all inembriated. They walked back to the table, where meat pies and plates of fish and chips awaited them. Jamie pulled a chair out and Claire sat down. She took a sip of her scotch and offered the rest of the glass to Jamie.

"Oh, yes I have, Claire. Oh, no, no, no Jamie calls you Sassenach, that's right. Yes, Sassenach, I have taught young James here how to take all my money as well as everyone else's. Because that is just what he has done. The student has surpassed the teacher, I'm afraid, and now I am broke and you must buy me a drink, Claire," Frank said with slurred speech. "I think he has taught half the bar a lesson in darts today, my dear," and he held his finger in the air for emphasis. He placed both hands on the table, leaned forward so that their noses met and said, "Since you are buying the next round Sassenach, make mine a whiskey, with ice, please. I need to take a piss. I shall return." Frank placed a kiss on her forehead then turned on his heels and staggered toward the back of the bar in the general direction of the loo. He passed Murtagh, who was making his way back to the table. Who knows where he had been.

Jamie drained what was left in Claire's glass and set the bonnet down on the table and it was indeed full of money. He had made a killing.

Murtagh, with a bottle in his hand re-filled the glass.

Claire hooked a finger in the bonnet and dragged it toward her for a closer look. "This is quite a profitable little side line you've got going for yourself by the looks of it, my fine sir" she said. "You truly have never played darts before?"

"No." Jamie said nodding his head in affirmation. He grabbed the back of a nearby chair, pulled it out and set it down, with the back right up against Claire's side. He sat down with his legs straddling the back. He placed his fists, one on top of the other on the back of the chair, laid his chin on top of them and looked at Claire's profile with a huge grin on his face.

"Alright, I'm confused," Claire said turning sideways in her chair to look at him. She tucked one leg under the other and adjusted her bum in order to do this. "No, I have never played darts before" and Claire move her head from side to side.. or... "Yes, I have played darts before" and she move her head up and down.

Jamie smiled one of the most endearing smiles she had ever seen and said "No" and nodded his head up and down again.

Claire laughed out loud and accepted another glass of scotch offered to her by Murtagh. She took a generous sip before setting it down.

Jamie leaned toward her. Claire placed her elbow on the back of Jamie's chair, on top of his arm, rested her face on her hand and leaned toward him. Their faces were less 6 inches apart, noses almost touching; only aware of each other. Claire noticed as Jamie's eyes turned that deep, dark, sapphire blue that usually indicated he was contemplating only deep and serious thoughts. He was looked into her eyes like he was studying them.

Finally he spoke. "Ye ken, Sassenach, you are verra bonnie for an English Lass and I have decided that ye have the most beautiful eyes I have ever beheld. I have been try'n, since the moment I saw ye to find a word to describe the color of 'em. First, I thought 'Honey', ye ken, like when ye pour it into your tea in the morning and all the gold, brown and rich amber that falls into the cup."

"But," he said with emphasis, sitting straight in the chair, moving his arm from under her elbow and running his index finger down her nose. "Then I thought whiskey." And he held up her shot glass, still half full. "My beautiful Scotch Whiskey with all the colors of the heather in the autumn are more like your beautiful eyes, Sassenach." He placed it right up to his face, over one eye. He closed the other eye and looked at her only through the whiskey filled part of the glass and smiled that half smile he makes when he is being charming.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, such a smile. Her insides tightened and her heart raced. Jamie downed her shot in one swallow and slammed the glass upside down on the table and yelled "Silenge", turned back and rested his head on his hand, mimicking Claire, and stared back into her eyes. "But whiskey is'na it either," he said.

The rest of the Scots in the bar echoed back "Silenge" and every one of them turned to Jamie, raised their glass or mug to him in tribute, and then took a drink. As Claire panned the bar she realized that her Jamie, was truly "The King of Men", here, in this bar he had only been to three times now. He was a leader, in every sense of the word. Jamie had never stopped wearing his plaid, and she didn't mean to say he was ever the only one, but now you could pan the bar and identify almost every Scot just by their dress. She wondered if they would have followed him into war if he cried for battle. She noticed how many more wore clan colors, proudly displaying clan tartans; some in kilts, like Jamie and Murtagh, others in vests, flannel shirts, jackets, scarfs or even hats. Maybe they had dressed this way yesterday and she had not noticed but Claire did not think so. She thought back to the game of darts and how the Scots had rallied around him. The homogenized bar it once was, it was no longer. You could clearly discern the Brits from the Scots. How had he managed that…?

Claire's attention to this thought was pulled away by Jamie. He was busy tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She turned and smiled.

"But then mo chridhle, I realized your eyes are the color of a verra fine brandy. You are the most beautiful woman I have every beheld. I am a verra fortunate man. I am truly blessed, Sassenach" Jamie said overcome with emotion.

"You are terribly handsome yourself, you know Jamie and she placed a hand on his cheek. The Lasses are certainly crazy for you. The butcher's daughter, Rebecca for one. Look at the little blonde barmaid staring daggers at me right now" and Claire laughed lightly and ran a finger under his jawbone. "And your eyes, my bonnie wee Scot, are like bluest pools of ocean I have ever see, without the fishes of course," she said and smiled. "I get lost in them sometimes, when we talk; I look into them and forget what I was going to say. That first night, when you looked up…" and then suddenly Jamie's lips were on Claire's. Hard. Bruising her mouth in an attempt to swallow her whole. His hand slipped behind her head so she could not pull away from the kiss even if she had the desire to do so (which, for the record, she had no such desire). She closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly and he his, so they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and opened her mouth to him. She melted into the kiss, wanting it to be deeper, to be more, to be longer, to never end. She was sure her heart stopped beating then started back in match with his. Claire could not breathe yet she did not want to stop the kiss long enough to take in the air she needed. She raised her hand and placed it lightly on the side of his neck, wanting to run her fingers though his soft, red hair….

Suddenly they were jolted apart. Something bumped them and there was Frank. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. His timing was terrible. Jamie stopped the kiss, pulled back and turned to Frank, who had knocked the chair he was trying to sit down on into Jamie. Jamie smiled and said "there ya are. Ya must have had to piss like a horse to be gone that long." He placed his very large and beautifully sculpted hand on Frank's shoulder. "I was just trying to decide the color of Claire's eyes. Do you have an opinion on the subject that you would care to share? Do you not think that my Sassenach is the bonniest lass in the bar Frank? She will make a most beautiful Lady Broch Tuarach, no?"

Claire was a puddle of soften butter, trying to gain control of her limbs again when… Wait, hold the bus! _Broch Tuarach!_ "Jamie..." Claire started...

"I like it right here with you, my sweet, soft Sassenach" and he nuzzled back into her neck. "Now, Claire, where were we before Frank knocked into me and broke my concentration?" and he started to nibble her neck.

"Frank," Claire stated. "Frank!" she said a little louder when he did not turn around.

"Huh, what? What Claire? I was watching the barmaid stomp away. She saw you two sucking face and seemed a little put-off by it. As if she had a chance against you for Jamie's attentions" he said smiling as he turned around to face her. "Please, forgive me my primal urges. What is it Malady requires of me?"

"Malady," Jamie stopped nibbling long enough to repeat with a laugh. "Claire would"... Kiss & nibble

"Be"... Kiss & nibble

"Lady Broch Tuarach"... Kiss & two nibbles

"If"... Two kisses

"She married me"... Two kisses & two nibbles

"Correct Murtagh?" he said, turned and looked at his godfather. "Will you wed me Claire?" he said when he turned back to Claire.

She looked at Jamie in total disbelief and blinked twice. What the hell? "Frank, be a doll and pinch me," she said to him and extended her arm in his direction.

Frank looked at her with a knitted brow, in obvious confusion, sensing a trap. "What?"

"Just do it Frank, please. Hard. I think I am dreaming and I need to wake up." Claire begged.

And so Frank, being a loyal friend, did as she requested.

"Ouch! Fuck Frank, that hurt," and Claire gave him a dirty look and rubbed her arm where he pinched her.

"Do you want I should kill him for you Claire? No one will ever hurt you when I am with you. Ever." Jamie stated and sat up and looked at Frank. "Do'na ever hurt my Sassenach ever again Frank or I shall have to kill you where you stand, my friend," and he poked Frank in the chest with his finger.

"I only did as Malady Brock Turrak requested Lord James. She told me to bloody well pinch her, hard and I did. She cannot complain about it after the fact, when she requested the deed." Frank said defending himself.

Jamie turned back to Claire and said, "Sorry hen. If you told him to hurt you then 'all bets are off'," and he turned back to Frank and said, "Did I use it in the correct context, Frank?"

Frank nodded his head up and down and patted Jamie soundly on the back.

Frank stood and turned in his chair and sat down again so he was facing Jamie and Claire and leaned against the back of the chair. "You know Jamie," Frank began, "You and I have met, prior to your attempt to run me through with your sword at Claire's that first night.

Murtagh, Lambert and Raymond stopped their conversation and turned their full attention to Frank.

"Dirk," Jamie interrupted and corrected.

"Whaaat?" Frank slurred in question.

"Not a sword, a dirk," Jamie explained. "I tried to kill you with my dirk. And in my defense, I wasn'a trying to kill you Frank, I was trying to kill Captain Randall of his Majesty's Eighth Dragoons. I was protecting Mo Neighan Donn." Jamie turned and kissed Claire on the lips.

"What is Moneigh done?" Claire asked.

"Mo Neighan Donn … My brown haired lass. And that you are, Claire. My brown haired lass" and he kissed her again.

Claire melted into a puddle of butter, yet again. Frank had told her this tale several times before. He always told it when he was drunk. She rested her head on Jamie's shoulder and sighed as Frank told how he had seen a large, red headed highlander waiting, outside the Bed & Breakfast she was staying in when she had first moved to Inverness. Claire had been brushing her hair in front of her room's window while the fellow stood outside, in the pouring rain, and watched her.

"Why do you think it was Jamie?" Murtagh asked. "And no just a ghost. As ye said it was around Aulde Hallows Eve and the Highlander was gone when ye turned around te watch him walk away."

"And ye said the wind was blowing and yet his cloths were not moving in the wind," Lambert added.

"Because now that I have met Jamie, I know it was him." Frank simply stated. "I do remember a running stag broach that pinned his plain to his shoulder..."

Murtagh and Jamie exchanged looks at that.

Jamie reached into his sporan and removed the running stag broach his sister Jenny had sent him for his birthday while he was at University in Paris. He handed it to Frank. "My sister Jenny gave it to me on my 18th birthday" he stated quietly.

All eyes were on Frank to see if he said it was the same broach. No one spoke a word or made a sound; everyone was holding their breath. Frank looked around the table and then stopped at Jamie's face. He looked down at the broach and rubbed it with his thumbs then back up into Claire's eyes and paused. He then looked back to Jamie and said what we all already knew..."yes, this is the very same broach. " _Je Suis Prest._ Is it French? What does that mean?" Frank asked.

"I am ready" Jamie quietly replied.

"Well, that's pretty ironic, I'd say" Frank whispered. "Who could every be _ready_ for what has happened to you. Not just this, I mean, pretty much your entire life Jamie."

"Jamie, lad," Murtagh began. "Do you remember such a dream?"

"Aye Murtagh, ye ken I have. Just like ye ken Claire was the curly haired healer from some of my other dreams when ye met her."

"And ye ken it was her when ye met her?" Murtagh asked.

"Aye" was Jamie's reply. "No doubt."

Claire turned and looked at Jamie. "You've had dreams about me? You've never said anything. Will you tell me about them?" She asked.

"I will tell you everythin'n, answer all ye questions, just no here and just no now, aye Sassenach? And he chucked her chin.

Claire nodded.

Neither of them noticed the close attention Master Raymond was paying to their conversation.

"Now then," Frank began. "I suppose the next priority will be to find your family estate, right Jamie? We shall start to hunt in earnest for Lallybroch, first thing tomorrow."

Claire's head shot up and turned again to look at Jamie. "I totally forgot, Jamie. You said your sister's name is Jenny?"

"Aye, Sassenach. 'Tis actually Janet but we all called her Jenny." He said as he smiled. The vision of his older sister's smiling face flashed before his eyes. He gasped just slightly, remembering the last time he had seen her, Captain Randall had been about to rape her. According to his Uncle Dougal, Randall had succeeded in planting his seed in poor Jenny and she bore him a male bairn. His own sister so dishonored. He had been unable to help her, first imprisoned, then flogged within an inch of his life and upon escape, had to flee to France. Only returning to Scotland a week prior to his falling through the stones to Claire. His own good father had died as well shortly after Jamie's flogging. Jenny was all alone. While he served as a mercenary in France he had found his childhood friend Ian Murray and talked Ian into returning home to Lallybroch to help Jenny, because he was unable to because of the price on his head. He hoped that his friend had done so. He had never heard if Ian had made it back or whatever became of Jenny or Lallybroch. He shook his head. This was his only regret for his failure to return to his time.

"Janet." Claire repeated. "Janet Fraser. Janet Flora Arabella Fraser... Murray. The book said Murray after Fraser..."

"Aye, Janet Flora Arabella Fraser. Murray?" Jamie repeated. "Murray? What book, Sassenach?" He look at her in confusion.

"Janet Flora Arabella Fraser married Ian Alastair Robert MacLeod Murray in 1740" Claire recited from memory; with her eyes closed she read the invisible words on the inside of her eyelids. "Their first child, James Fraser Murray was born in 1741." When she opened her eyes everyone at the table was staring at her.

"Well, the book you saw was wrong Sassenach. My Uncle Dougal said that Black Jack Randall raped Jenny when I was taken to Fort Williams to be flogged. And she bore him a bairn. A lad. A bastard. That would have been 1740. Before Ian returned. Dougal never said Jenny married. He implied she had become a soldier's whore." He said hesitatingly, like he was trying to work the logistics out in his head before he spoke.

"Jamie, lad" Murtagh started, with caution. "Ye ken ye Uncle may no have been tell'n ye the truth of the matter. He is always full of lies and deceit, Dougal is As is Colum, for that matter."

Jamie just looked at his godfather while he digested Murtagh's words.

"No other child is born to Janet prior to that, at least according to your family bible. None is noted. Janet and Ian have seven children total," Claire said directly to Jamie. "Though one dies the same day it is born, all the others survive and produces heirs. Lallybroch goes to the Murray family. It's no longer belongs to Clan Fraser. Do you know an Ian Murray, Jamie?"

"Aye, Sassenach." Jamie said. "John Murray was my father's factor. Ian Murray, was his son and my playmate and best friend."

"When I went into hospital this morning, there was a new patient. He goes by the name of John Murray, Jamie. His name in his charts said Ian Murray, Ian Brian James Fraser Murray, _Laird Broch Tuarach_ he said and that his home is _Lallybroch_." Claire finished almost in a whisper as she watched a plethora of expressions project across Jamie's face. Exhaustion was the last one. He looked worn out. "Murtagh, I think it is time we get Jamie back to the flat. It has been a rather long and exhausing day for all of us. I know tomorrow you two will want to go to hospital and meet John Murray."

"Aye, Lass. Let's get Jamie home. The lad is worn out. Tomorrow he will want to meet this Laird."

Claire turned to Lambert and Master Raymond. "Thank you for being there, and here for them and she nodded at both Jamie and Murtagh. I can not thank you enough. We will see you tomorrow, then." Claire then turned to Frank and mouthed _Thank you_ to him as well. She left money on the table. Murtagh grabbed Jamie's bonnet and they walked out the pub and headed back to the flat.


	18. Chapter 18 - Godfathers Rule

Je Suis Prest – Godfathers Rule

Murtagh watched as Jamie closed the door behind them as they left the tavern. Claire turned right, pointing them back in the direction of her flat. Murtagh observed what was now a routine for his godson. Jamie took Claire's hand in his and pulled her to his side, always keeping himself between her and the street. If something were to come at them, Jamie would be able to push Claire up against the building, pivot, draw his weapon and place himself between Claire and whatever was coming; never having to worry that something could come at them from behind. Murtagh smiled with the understanding that it was probably not even a conscious decision on the lad's part, his natural instincts were just take'n over. Protect Claire, and now the bairn, at any and all costs.

He ken the way they were together. He had been watching. Always touching, their hands always in contact with each other. Even when they were in conversation with someone else, somehow their fingers seemed to not rest, constantly moving, wandering until ones fingers found the others. Their bodies never completely relaxing until their hands were content. That need for touch. He had seen it all before. They reminded him of Ellen and Brian, in so many ways. He reached a decision, made up his mind, he would help Jamie and Claire the same way he'd helped Ellen and Brian - any way that they needed him to.

 _He had come to visit his Uncle's wife, Glenna FitzGibbons. Now Glenna FitzGibbons MacKenzie. Glenna was his mother's youngest brother's wife. The uncle had deid not too many years ago, and Glenna wed a 2_ _nd_ _time, to one of Jacob MacKenzie's tackman. She had started out as a kitchen maid but over the years, found herself now a cook at Castle Leoch._

 _She ken Murtagh, at age 24, was still single and look'n for a bride. She wrote, ask'n him to come for a visit, see the sights, as it were. While sit'n in the kitchen, eating a bannock, fresh from the ovens, Murtagh had seen Ellen Caitriona Sileas Mackenzie, for the first time. She was the wildest creature his eyes had ever beheld. Tall as a man, flowing red hair, like her father and gray eyes that could pierce a man's soul. One look and he was loon over her. Could'na take his eyes off her. He remembered Glenna cuff'n him upside the heid and tell'n him..._

" _Sorry ma wee laddie. She is meant for somethi'n more than the likes of yoo. She's the laird's oldest and will be a Laird's wife, if her father finds someone she'll have. She's an aulde maid of two and twenty now and has turned down half a dozen suitors already. Now let me introduce ye ta Morag..." and she dragged Murtagh out to the Great Hall._

 _The lass Glenna wanted him to meet was a kitchen maid helping to serve breakfast._

 _He had sought Ellen out as soon as he managed to get away from Morag. Found her at the stables after breakfast, readying her horse for a ride. He just saddled his horse and followed her, never introducing himself or asking if she wanted company. They rode the hills for hours, nary a word passed between them. Finally she stopped at a small burn, dismounted and hobbled her horse. She removed her boots, and with not the slightest hesitation, slipped off her woolen leggings, hiked her emerald green skirts up above her knees and walked into the water. Not giving a moments concern about the indecency of what she was doing. She just stood there in the middle of the stream, standing as the water swirled around her legs and lifted her face to the sun. He ken right then and there she was a nymph. A water nymph for sure. And she was letting him see her for what she truly was. His horse hobbled as well, he just fell flat on his arse and watched her. Mesmerized._

 _She stood like that for he ken not how long then spoke... "As fheàrr dlùth do bheul agad, squiridh tu ribe cuileagan, Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser" turned and smiled at him._ _(best close your mouth, you will trap flies)._

 _Murtagh could feel the heat of his blush rise as he closed his mouth at her instructions. She ken his name. How did she learn that he wondered. To this day he never knew. Was never brave enough to ask her._

 _They spent most of the day there. Words were not needed, they just sat in each others company. They rode back to Castle Leoch together, not side by side but he behind her in single file, protecting her back. She would look back and smile at him every once and awhile._

 _They did this for 3 consecutive days. On the fourth, when Murtagh approached the barn, he ken something was amiss. It was quiet, nary a sound. Much too quiet for a barn in the early morning with all the work that needed to be done. He approached with stealth. Crossing the threshold, senses alert and hand at the ready on his dirk hilt, when suddenly there came the sound of voices._

" _...nach urrainn dhut innse dhomh dè nì Dùghal" Ellen was calmly but emphatically saying as she was saddling her horse. (you can not tell me what to do Dougal)_

" _Tha urrainn dhomh. Mise do bhràthair ghiùlan agaibn a 'nochdadh ai dhuinn uile, Ellen" Dougal stated with authority he had no claim to. (Yes I can. I am your brother. Your behavior reflects on us all, Ellen)._

" _Athair fios aig" Ellen spoke softly but with defiance. "Murtagh Fraser ithe agus 'se caraid agus bidh sinn a' marcachd, òl còmhla mar a tha sinn marsin 'taghadh. Daoine a leigeil a bruidhinn. S coma leam." (Father knows. Murtagh Fraser is a friend and we will ride, eat and drink together, if we so choose. Let people talk. I do not care.)._

 _Ellen MacKenzie was bonnie, fierce, could ride a horse as well as any man Murtagh ken, drank whiskey and she had called him_ _friend. He held his head up high and boldly strode into the barn. He fetched his horse and rode away with Ellen._

 _That day when Ellen spoke while she stood in the water, Murtagh replied and, thanks to Dougal MacKenzie, a friendship was openly acknowledged between them._

 _Three days later, with sadness in his heart he rode away, back to his father at Beauly Castle. His own good mother had died. He would not see Ellen again for 2 years, until The MacKenzie Gathering._

 _It was the 1st night of the MacKenzie Gathering. The Clan had assembled in the Great Hall not to pledge fealty to the Laird but rather to decide who would next lead. Jacob MacKenzie had died suddenly of fever that previous winter and this Gathering was to decide who_ _ **The MacKenzie's**_ _successor would be. Murtagh's cousin, Brian Fraser had accompanied him. He was glad of it; Brian was good company on the road. Brian Fraser was the Aulde Fox's bastard son. His mother was a kitchen maid at the castle, but the aulde man had acknowledged Brian as a product of his spilled seed. No more but better that most bastards received for at least Brian ken who his father was and he and his mother had roof over their heids and food in their bellies. The Aulde Fox had not tossed him out into the cold and left to die._

 _Between the MacKenzies and the Frasers, there was no friendship; Jacob and Lord Lovat had no accord. Only respect. Lovat had sent Murtagh, along with Brian, to make note of which side each Clan pledged Fielty to. Lovat wanted to ken which Clans backed Colum and which backed Dougal_ _ **and**_ _which of the two ultimately succeeded their father. Or, better yet Lovet thought, if the Clan themselves divided between the two brothers. Split the Clan, that idea had made Lovat smile; divide and conquer. The Fox ken there would be no other contenders. Murtagh and Brian were to return as soon as a decision was reached or war broke out amongst the Clan. When Brian and he arrived at Castle Leoch, Brian had compared it to the Montagues slipping into the Capulets Celebration._ _Murtagh, at the time, did not realize just how close to the truth that statement would truly be._

 _Jacob's wife, Anne, had died ten years before not too long after giving birth to the youngest of their six children, Jocasta. The Ellen was the oldest child and, if truth be told, she was smarter that either of her two brothers and the apple of her father's eye. She was 24 at the time of Jacob's demise and at The Gathering. Old for an unwed lass but her father had never forced her to wed where her heart would not let her. All suggested suitors had been met and turned away._ _The oldest son and two years younger than Ellen, Colum, would have easily been the obvious choice as successor, but at 18, a fall from his horse had left him with both legs broken. They never seemed to heal correctly, becoming bent and bowed with time. The older Colum became the more decay seemed to befall his lower limbs. The legs pain was constant. By the time of the Gathering he was struggling to walk and it was certain he would never ride again. Could, or rather should, he be Laird was what every man at the Gathering was arguing. How could he ever collect the rents that were due, effectively protect the lands or lead the clan into battle. He had been a tall, strapping lad, both smart and well educated but, all agreed, but down right conniving, if truth be told. Now most looked on him with nothing more than pity, for what Colum might have been. The younger of Ellen's two brothers, Dougal, only a year behind Colum in age, was hot heided and now that his father was deid, he was becoming well known for an uncontrolled mean streak. It was Dougal's way or suffer the consequences. If only Colum had Dougal's body or Dougal had Colum's mind. Alone neither would be an ideal leader._

 _Murtagh and Brian had entered the Great Hall, collected mugs of ale to drink, meat and bread to eat, found space at a table in the back near the wall and agreed to sit quietly, unobserved and listen as the discussion became louder and more heated. Most agreed it should be one of Jacob's sons, no other names were even suggested that Murtagh heard. Colum was being groomed to replace Himself until his fall. Now there were supporters for Dougal, but most seemed to understand that the younger son had no heid for the work; he possessed no finesse, no compassion, no diplomacy and no leadership skills except brute force. With Dougal in charge, one thing was for certain, there would be plenty of Fiery Crosses; plenty of conflict, skirmishes and wars._

 _Murtagh suddenly heard Brian gasp. Murtagh turned and followed his friends gaze straight to Ellen. She had entered the Great Hall at the far end. She was dressed in a beautiful dress of the purest purple Murtagh had ever seen. Her hair was in one long simple plait down the back. She was beautiful._

" _She is fair, no? That Brian, is Ellen MacKenzie. Colum and Dougal's older sister."_

" _She is the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld." he turned to Murtagh and whispered with a glazed look on his face. "I must speak with her." He rose and strode confidently across the room toward her._

" _So much for remaining in the shadows" Murtagh muttered to himself as he shook his heid and walked away. He did not stay and watch as Ellen would certainly shot his friend in the heart. Ellen MacKenzie would have nothing to do with Brian Fraser. Any fool with eyes would ken that and Murtagh went to find his aunt in the kitchens rather than watch his friend be told to bugger off. His aunt would feed him, make him something special to eat. He'd meet up with Brian back at the barn._

 _Murtagh never saw Brian again that evening. He never came back to the barn to sleep in the loft. Murtagh did find him the next morning at breakfast in the Great Hall, though he was'na very talkative, kept his head down. Every now and again he'd look up and check the Lairds table and then look back down at his food. He seemed to be pushing his food around and no really eaten anythi'n, his porritch going virtually untouched. Somethi'n was wrong... Brian always finished his porritch._

" _Are you hunting in the Tynchal today?" Murtagh asked Brian. When Brian did'na even respond, like he'd had'na even heard him, Murtagh tried again... "And there's a shinty match after that..."_

 _Nothing from Brian, still._

 _Now he ken something was awry. Brian was always up for a game of shinty. Murtagh turned to his friend._

" _Brian"_

 _No response._

" _Brian" Murtagh said with a little more force._

 _Still nothing._

" _Brian" he said with conviction and shook his friends shoulder..._

 _Brian finally turned and looked at him._

 _Murtagh jerked back, startled. He ken right away something was different. Like Brian was in pain... it dinna seem like his body was hurting, he was no holding his arm or his heid, but something was definitely wrong with his friend and there was such sadness about his eyes._

" _I ken Ellen would'na talk to ye last night Brian. I am sorry. She is verra bonnie I agree. But she is Jacob's first born and was his pride and joy. Her brother Colum will see her wed before this year is out. There is already talk of using her marriage to strengthen allegiances, unite the clans. She will be a Laird's wife, of that you can be sure. That is what she was made for. That is who she is." He needed to heed his own words as well for Murtagh ken he was in love with the lass himself. And he was no Laird either._

" _Murtagh. I'm in love. I have found the woman of my dreams. She is meant for me and I am meant for her." Brian spoke from his heart. He turned and looked at Murtagh and whispered "we were up most of the night talking, ye ken. We found a quiet corner on a balcony and talked until she fell asleep. We remained there until the light came up over the hill. It was the most beautiful sunrise my eyes have ever beheld..." Brian said with a sigh. "She let me hold her hand, Murtagh and she slept in my arms."_

 _Murtagh looked at his friend in shock. "Nay, Brian. It can never happen. Word is that Colum has promised Ellen to Malcolm Grant. He is here to meet her and take her back with him if he is in agreement. It is a match that will strengthen the two clans ties. It is a good match for Colum, should he be chosen The Leader of Clan MacKenzie."_

" _Ellen said as much last night. She does not love Grant, Murtagh. She does not care that her brother_ _ **needs**_ _her to make this match. She says she will meet with Malcolm tonight, for the sake of her brother, but she will not have him." Brian said as the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile, almost like he ken a secret._

" _I have things I must do so I will not hunt in the Tynchal. If my work is done, I will try and meet you for the shinty match, but I make no promises, aye? I will definitely meet you back here for supper. I will have things organized by then and will have need of your help. Will ye do that for me Murtagh? Will ye help me for the sake of true love?"_

 _Murtagh looked at Brian verra confused. Nothing Brian had said made any sense. He dinna want to hunt? Since when? Maybe he'd play shinty? "Do what in the name of true love? What are ye on about Brian?" Murtagh found he was now talk'n to the back of the man's head. Half way through what Murtagh thought was a conversation, Brian turned around and was now watch'n the lairds table like a hawk on the hunt. Like Brian thought somethin was gonna happen over at that table._

 _Dougal pushed back his chair, stood and announced the Tynchal was ready to begin. Everyone needed to meet in the courtyard._

 _Ellen had stood as well, ready to leave. Murtagh watched as Brian mirrored Ellen's movements. Ellen nodded her heid, ever so slightly and then, as if in reply, Brian nodded his heid. Each left the Great Hall, almost at the same time, through different doors._

 _No one noticed because the entire hall was leaving at the same time._

 _No one noticed, except Murtagh. Did he follow his friend or go with the hunting party? He thought it was best to do as Brian suggested. He would hunt the Tynchal, keep an eye on Dougal MacKenzie as Lovat had asked and meet Brian back at the Great Hall for supper._

 _Murtagh unfolded his small frame from the crouch he was in when he ken the boar was deid. One clean thrust from under the animals jaw, up and into it's brain had dropped it like a stone at his feet. He pulled his dirk from the great pig's throat and blood spurted all over him as it's heart still beat and it's legs still attempted to run as he lay on it's side in a pool of it's own blood. The aulde boar would not give up even in death. He knelt and said a prayer over the animal then wiped his blade in the moss on the ground. Murtagh was exhilarated. His heart was pounding in his chest, his blood was boiling and he had one verra large, very hard cockstand. He, Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser had single handedly killed the verra large, verra angry, boar, with only his dirk. The fact that the beast had been injured by others earlier in the hunt, made it almost worse, harder to kill, because an animal acts loon when they are hurt. They become totally unpredictable, verra, verra mean and desperate. The animals blood covered him. It was even dripping from his hair and running down the back of his shirt. He could smell the blood and feel the heat of it. His hands were sticky with it. He had managed to avoid the tusks. The beast had wounded six men today, two mortally, but had no laid a scratch on him. It had finally been stopped. The boar's reign of terror over these woods had ended. There would be a celebratory feast tonight._

 _Dougal presented him with an almost unheard of honor, both tusks from the boar that lay dead at his feet. The boar was an aulde one. It's dark wiry hair was full of white hairs all around the face and the tusks were double circles. He ken immediately what he would do with them; have them made into bracelets and give them to Ellen. She would see him as more than a friend then. She would see him as a warrior and legitimate suitor. He'd hate to hurt Brian but he had seen Ellen first, after all, and Ellen and he were actually friends; Ellen did'na ken Brian. The vision of the bracelets around Ellen's lovely wrists made him smile. He would take them straight to the Blacksmith as soon as they returned to the castle. Then he would need to bathe, he could'na meet Ellen covered in pigs blood. He ken she would seek him out as soon as she heard. Aye, his Auntie Glenna was wrong. Ellen would choose him. This bastard of a boar would win him Ellen MacKenzie's heart._

 _Dougal walked with Murtagh as they made their way back to the castle after presenting him with the tusks, Ellen's brother draping a companionable arm over Murtaghs shoulder and spoke to him as if he were a MacKenzie tackman rather than a Fraser, as they made their way. Dougal spoke of Ellen's father, swiviling just about anything in a skirt and his strategies at shinty, which mostly sounded like cheating to Murtagh. He was beginning to think the man dinna had a moral bone in his body by the time they reached the castle. There they parted company. Dougal off to provide his expertise in the shinty match and he in search of much needed sustenance. He silently thank himself that he was not directly related to the man but realized he was going to be dealing with both of Ellen's brothers for the rest of his life. That made him frown. The things men do for love, aye?_

 _Glenna was beside her self with joy for him. Such pride showed on her face as she hovered and mothered over him as he ate. She found his uncle's aulde plaid, shirt and waistcoat and offered to heat water for a bath, but he ken she had too much else to do and said he would go down to the pond by the stable and wash himself. She handed him a bar of soap as well as a rag. He stopped by the blacksmiths on the way. He and the blacksmith haggled over the price of creating the bracelets and after agreeing on a price, Murtagh left the tusks with him and was told they would be ready before the end of the Gathering. That left Murtagh in search of a place to take a bath. He ended up in one of the barns horse troughs. And he did no even need the soap or rag._

 _Wrapped in the fresh plaid, clean shirt and waistcoat, he felt like a new man. He took his dirty kilt and shirt back to Glenna, who said she'd have one of the lasses clean it for him, and then went to the Great Hall to find more drink and food. When he entered the hall several of the groups of men turned and clapped. Many shook his hand and clapped him on the back. One even got him a mug of ale. He scanned the hall and saw no sign of Brian. He glanced at the Lairds table and did not see Ellen, but it was early for the women to come down to supper. He did notice Colum enter the room and watched his stunted and cruel gate as he made is way to his father's seat. When their eyes met, Colum stopped and acknowledged him with a formal nod of his head making Murtagh look away a little ashamed at himself for staring. Murtagh found a couple of men he recognized from the hunt and sat with them as they discussed the shinty match. It would seem that Dougal does indeed play dirty, even when playing against his own clan._

 _Brian finally arrived. He approached Murtagh smiling. "Congratulations. Well done. I have heard all about your kill. That animal has plagued this land for many years Ellen said" he said and then paused as if the mere whisper of her name was cause for reflection. When the remembrance was over, Brian began again "I heard ye did it single handed. That's just grand Murtagh. And Dougal awarded ye both tusks. I can hardly believe my ears. May I see them?" Brian asked as he clapped Murtagh on the back._

" _I put them in my travel bag already. I dinna wish to loose or forget them" Murtagh lied. "My father will be verra proud when I show him."_

 _Brian sat and listened to Murtagh re-tell the heroic tale twice to others who came to congratulate him. He shifted in his seat and glanced at the Laird's table several times. Where was Ellen he thought to himself? He had grudgingly left her at the stairs that led up to her chambers after they had spent the entire day together riding and talking under an old oak tree she called her 'craobh mèorachaidh'(tree of reflection); a place she had gone to for quiet reflection when she had worries that needed sort'n. Only Alex ken they had gone off together, unescorted._

" _I trust Alex with my life" Ellen said and kissed him softly on his lips. "He would never betray me" and she had slipped up the stairs to change for supper._

 _She should have been down by now. They should never have been so brazen, so careless. He cursed himself for his lack of judgment. If anything happened to Ellen because of their indiscretions, he would never forgive himself. He ken her brothers would have their spies; anyone in the castle could be loyal to one or the other. It had to be Colum, the deviant. Dougal would have been straight forward and challenged him by now, of that he was sure. He reached over and grasped Murtagh's arm._

" _Murtagh, I need te speak with ye in private with no disruptions." Brian spoke when they were finally alone._

" _Let it out man" Murtagh replied and laid a hand on Brian's shoulder. "I ken ye've had something on ye mind since breakfast. Get it off ye chest. I ken is has somethin' to do with Ellen. Speak ye peace."_

" _Not here" Brian said as he cautiously scanned the room and his eyes coming to rest on Colum, whose glaring slits for eyes were burrowing holes into his. Colum ken. That made his heart race... for Ellen's safety, not for his own. He would have to move swiftly. There would not be much time. He re-scanned the room. No Dougal. His heart missed a beat. Not Good. "Come with me, Murtagh. I beg ye, for the sake of your friendship with Ellen. She needs ye now, more than ever."_

 _Murtagh noticed, as he and Brian were exiting the Great Hall, that Malcolm Grants tackman came striding into the Hall and went straight to the table of Grant men. All stopped talking and turned to listen to whatever he started to say. The man was quiet about it._

 _To Castle Leoch's chapel Brian led him._ _Brian opened the chapel door and motioned Murtagh inside and he saw Ellen standing with Father Simon and her sister Janet. He supposed Janet took after their mother for she looked nothing like Ellen. She was a plain sort of lass, a good half a foot shorter than Ellen, sad brown eyes the color of shite, a small, pushed in nose, long straight, mousy brown hair and quiet. Murtagh could no remember if he had ever heard her utter a word._

 _Both women looked up and smiled when Brian entered the room and softly closed the door behind him. Murtagh heard him turn the key; Brian had locked the door. Just what in 'iffrimm was goin' on here?_

" _Out with it, Brian" Murtagh whispered as the man strode passed him. He watch with his mouth wide open with the next word hanging on his lips as Ellen threw herself into Brian's embrace._

" _Ann an sin mo calman. Avhith fhathast. Tha mi an seo. Thug mi Murtagh. Bidh e a 'cuideahcadh dhuinn, mo chirdhe. (There, there my dove. Be still. I am here. I have brought Murtagh. He will help us, my heart.) and he kissed her again._

 _Murtagh looked to the ground and kicked at the stone floor. His mind was stunned. Shocked. No a thought in his heid. He wanted to flee. To think this through. To make sense of what he was watch'n. He feet were rooted in place like an ancient tree. He could do nothing but wait, watch and listen. Ellen's voice brought him back from the depth of despair._

" _Athair Simon air aontachadh a phòsadh dhuinn an oidhche nochd, Brian. Fois aige gum biodh e dè a bhiodh m 'athair air a bhith ag iarraidh. Airson dhomh a phòsadh mo chridhe." Ellen declared and kissed Brian softly, hands fisting the front of his coat. (Father Simon has agreed to marry us this night Brian. He knows it would be what my father would have wanted. For me to marry my heart.)_

 _When Ellen pulled away, Brian was smiling a half smile Murtagh had never seen before._

" _Why did ye no come to the Hall for supper as planned?" Brian asked._

" _Colum suspects" Ellen declared. "He locked me in the courtyard and made me listen to Malcolm Grant's proposal. Thank gracious Janet came and opened the door" and she turned and squeezed her dear sister's hand. "I told Malcolm I would have nothing to do with him. I did not take orders from either of my_ _ **younger**_ _brothers. Colum might be Laird of the castle but he is not my father and can'na tell me what to do."_

 _Brian grabbed her by the shoulders. "Ye are such a bonnie, brave lass. I am burst'n with pride for ye" and he kissed her again._

 _Murtagh's head snapped up. "That would explain Grant's tackman in the Great Hall as we were leaving Brian..."_

 _All four faces turned and looked at him like he had just slit his own throat. He explained what he had seen as he and Brian had left._

" _It won't be long before Colum, and Dougal know." Brian said. "We need to away tonight if we are to have a chance Ellen."_

" _Janet," Ellen began. "Go back to my room. I need another work gown, shift and cloak" and Janet slipped away to gather Ellen's things._

" _Where will ye go Brian?" Murtagh asked._

" _That was what I was going to speak to ye about. I can'na take Ellen back to Beauly. We need someplace safe to hid until Ellen is with child. Then her brothers can'na refuse me." Brian paused for a breath and cupped Ellen's face softly in his hands. "We need to be wedded first. I will not take you away from ye home Ellen, until we are properly wed."_

" _I do not need that Brian. We can always handfast when we get to where we are going." she said, turning and placed a kiss on the palm that lay on her cheek. "We need to be away."_

" _No" Brian simply stated. "I will not leave Castle Leoch without you as my wife."_

" _Stubborn as a rock, ye are Fraser." Ellen said. "And I love ye all the more for it." The smile that came to her face told Murtagh that Ellen was proud of the man she had chosen. Brian respected her and honored her father by only taking what was rightfully his when he left Leoch. Her but only if they were wed._

 _And so it was done. Father Simon pronounced the union. Janet and Murtagh witnessed the event. They were husband and wife. Brian and Ellen Fraser. She was his in the eyes of God._

" _Give me your travel bag, Ellen" Murtagh said. "I will go to the barn and ready the horses. Janet, get to the kitchen. Ask for Glenna. Tell her I need food for a couple of days then bring it with you to the barn, aye? Go canny, lass. Yer brothers have eyes_ _and ears everywhere in the castle" and held the door open for her. Before leaving the chapel right behind her, he turned and nodded to Brian._

" _Murtagh..." Ellen began. She knew he loved her. From that very first day 2 years ago."_

" _Aye Ellen lass." Murtagh cut her off. "I always ken, it was never gonna be me. Why do ye think I rode behind ye and never beside ye. Does'na mean I love ye any less, though." He looked down at the floor as he spoke, unable to look her in the eye as he made his declaration._

 _She stepped forward and kissed him gently on the cheek._

 _Murtagh looked at the surprise on Brian's face when Ellen stepped back to him. He could feel the heat of the blush as his face turned red. "I will always protect ye and yours, Ellen. I promise ye that" and he turned and walked out the door._

 _Brian paid the father and thanked him for the peace his vows would bring to them while they were in hiding._

" _I will keep ye two in my prayers." Father Simon said as he made the sign of the cross behind them as they left the chapel, slipped out the castle and made their way to the barn._

 _It was full night now with a half moon in the sky. They would have the cover of darkness to help hide them in their travels._

 _Murtagh had 4 horses ready. Brian's, His own, Ellen's and a 4_ _th_ _mount._

" _My mother's family farm." Murtagh spoke softly, almost to himself and he handed Brian a folded paper._

" _What?" Ellen said turning to Murtagh._

" _My mother's family were farmer. Her oldest brother, my Uncle Seamus is in possession of the farm now. Near Plockton on the south side of Lock Carron. He has no love for Lovat or MacKenzie, I tell ye true. He will hide you, keep you safe until you are ready to be found." Murtagh said. "I wrote a letter for you to give him."_

" _Why 4 horses, Murtagh?" Brian asked. "I canna ask you to risk everything to go with us."_

 _The horses nickered and Ellen's horse stamped it's feet. Someone was coming. Murtagh placed his finger to his lips and stepped against the barn wall next to the door and drew his dirk._

 _Janet walked into the barn and walked straight to Ellen. "Malcolm is gone. Gathered his men and left on horse back before supper ended. Colum realized you had not come to supper and had the Castle searched for you, while we were in the chapel. I guess no one thought to look for you there. Our dear brothers think Malcolm has taken you, kidnapped you. Dougal has already gathered his men and they have left on horseback to catch Grant. To get you back."_

 _Murtagh walked up sheathing his dirk as he approached. "Now is the time for you two leave while your brothers are distracted Ellen. You need to put on Brian's spare shirt and breeks and put ye hair up under my dubonnet. You'll ride my horse. With any luck anyone that see ye will think it is Brian and I leaving for Beauly. Brian, Grant's land it to the South. My uncle's farm lies to the East. Janet and I will ride West, toward Beannachd. Janet will ride your horse Ellen and I will take another MacKenzie mount. Someone, I am sure, will recognize the horse along the way, and hopefully guess that Janet it you and follow us. We will tell your brothers when we are caught, that Janet wanted to see her nieces and I offered to escort her._

 _Brian nodded and handed Ellen his clothes. She slipped into an empty stall to change. Janet handed Brian the sack of food and followed Ellen into the stall to help her with the laces._

 _Without turning, Murtagh spoke again. "Janet, do you think you can find your way back into the Castle, pack a wee bag and fetch your cloak. We should leave tonight as well. We need to give your brothers another set of tracks to follow. We can look for an Inn down the road."_

 _Janet nodded her head, gave her sister one last hug and was gone in a moment._

" _Murtagh," Brian started._

" _There's no need for thanks, Brian. Just take care of her. Travel at night, aye, and sleep well off the roads. It will take ye 5 hard nights of riding... ye best be going, ye'll need as much of a start as Janet and I can give ye." He clasped Brian on the shoulder and nodded at him._

 _Murtagh turned to Ellen, who had come out of the stall carrying her skirts. One look at her face and he felt his heart catch in his throat. He had to be honest with himself... he ken, even with the gift of the bracelet, she never would have been his. At least he could see her happy. And this way he might actually see her again. It was his family's farm, after all. And the bracelets, they could be a wedding gift._

" _Away with ye Ellen or ye'll be caught by ye brothers on Castle grounds" and he stood by his horse, laced his hands together and helped her on his horse. Brian finished packing Ellen's skirts into his bag, mounted his horse and they quietly rode out of the barn and into the dark._

 _Murtagh heard a whisper of a noise and turned to face it with dirk drawn. He would stop whoever it was that saw Brian and Ellen slip away or die trying. When Brian saw it was Alex, he did not rest his reflexes, but raised an eyebrow in silent question._

 _Alex made no sound, just nodded his head. And when Janet returned, Murtagh helped her onto Ellen's horse and they slipped quietly into the night._

When they reached the bus stop Claire had automatically stopped.

Jamie turned to her and said, "it's not far. I'd like to walk back, if ye alright with that Sassenach. 'Tis a nice night. Ye alright walk'n, Murtagh?"

Hearing his name spoken brought Murtagh back from his thoughts. "What?"

"Are ye alright walk'n back to Claire's instead of tak'n the bus?" Jamie repeated.

"Are we gon'na walk through the wee forest with the benches?" Murtagh inquired.

"Aye. That's the way to Claire's, through the park, Murtagh" Jamie nodded to him.

"Good." Murtagh said. "I would like to have a talk with the two of you. We ken stop there and have a wee chat."

Jamie and Claire exchanged questioning glances. Jamie shook his head _No_. He had no idea what was on Murtagh's mind. Claire shrugged her shoulders in response. They would give Murtagh the park to speak whatever was on his mind.

"I'd like a walk through the park with my Fraser men" Claire happily declared and leaned her head against Jamie's arm.

Jamie looked down and smiled. He leaned over to place a kiss on the top of Claire's head when suddenly Murtagh stepped right in between them. Jamie and Claire both stopped walking, trying to be nonchalant about it, circled around behind Murtagh and moved to walk next to Claire on the other side. He took her hand in his.

When they came to the pedestrian crossing where they crossed the street to the park, they had to wait for the light to change and the cars to stop.

"Claire...," Jamie started then stopped and pulled her into his arms and kisses her softly on the lips. This one, though short, was full of the want and desire unexpressed from last night. He had not been happy with the way things had ended. He was the one that had not handled the events well. He was so proud of her fierceness, her bravery; to give up the life she had built here and been willing to leave it all behind. He never told her that and he should have. She was offering him a second chance. He needed to make sure she ken that even though he had been ready to leave, it was'na what he wanted in his heart. Here with her and the bairn was his home now. He ken it. He felt it in his bones. He needed to find a way to tell her. He ken he could show her physically how he felt, he needed to be able to speak the words, tell her his heart. He would find a way. He had that first night; they had spent the whole night just talking and touching. That was the way back to her, he was sure.

Jamie ken since he was staying, he would have to find work. He could not keep play'n cards and darts for money. That was no way to provide for a family. He was a farmer, first and foremost but had also been a soldier. Lallybroch had become his inheritance with the death of Willie and his da had done his best to prepare him to step into his boots as Laird. It was never his responsibility though, only his duty to his family, the tenants and to the farm itself. He fell into the life of a soldier out of need and necessity, while fleeing the British Soldiers with a price on his heid. He had become a mercenary in France, a calling he was verra good at. He found he was a natural leader of men; they trusted him and followed his orders without hesitation. Those were the things he ken, he understood the work. Was that work still needed, he did not ken. Perhaps Frank could provide some thoughts or Lambert might be able to guide him.

He worried about Murtagh as well. His Godfather had given up everything to stay with him. Murtagh had heard the call of the stones and chosen to stay rather than leave. It made Jamie's heart verra glad to have Murtagh here with him. He had always been at his side, since he could remember. It will help to have his presence here. His mam and da were there to help him find his way from bairn to lad. His Uncles Dougal and Column helped him from lad to man but Murtagh had been there though it all. He ken he should have sent Murtagh back to protect Jenny, knowing what was coming when he realized that the stones would'na take him but spoke to Murtagh still. Jamie had just been so glad the stones did'na take him that he did not push Murtagh to go.

Murtagh cleared his throat.

The traffic was stopped, they crossed the road and entered the park. Jamie placed his arm around Claire's waist as they walked. The park was quiet this time of night, though not completely empty. There was a peacefulness to it. There was a bit of a nip to the the soft breeze that blew, but winter was coming, the night air would start cooling off, soon it would be too cold for walks like this. It was a good thing that Claire had her coat. If Samhain had passed then the snows would soon start. Jamie remembered Lallybroch usually had it's first snow by November. The trees had already lost a good portion of their leaves, fallen to the ground, covering the path with it's fall rainbow of color. Their feet making crunching noises on the dead leaves as they walked.

Murtagh came to a halt in front of an empty bench and motioned for Jamie and Claire to have a seat. Once settled, they share another short kiss.

Murtagh cleared his throat again.

That was the third time since they'd left the tavern, Claire thought. She was beginning to think that maybe Murtagh had the beginning of a cold. She'd take a look at his throat when they got back to the flat and make sure his tonsils were not red and infected. Murtagh would not get sick on her watch. No sir. If he had chosen to stay and protect her, then she would protect him as well.

"What is it Murtagh? What is on ye mind? You've been fretting since we left the bar. Ye ken tell Claire and I," Jamie said and tighten his hold on Claire's hand as they sat on the bench.

"Tssst" is the sound Murtagh made as he clicked his tongue against his teeth in reply before he began. "Now Jamie, ye ken I swore an oath to ye mam that I would always guard and protect ye."

Jamie nodded his head.

Claire slid closer to Jamie on the bench. They were now almost touching from shoulder to foot. She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"And today you had me pledge te ye that I would protect Claire. So that is what I am do'n, what ye asked me te do, remember that, aye?" Murtagh then placed his hands, one on each of their touching shoulders, and pushed them apart. "There will be court'n rules to be followed, and Jamie, I will no be allow'n any bedding of the lass until after ye are properly wed."

"What?" Claire sputtered. With her face full of shock turn she turned and looked at Jamie. "You know we are grown adults and don't need your approval. We can do whatever we want" she declared when she turned back to face Murtagh.

"No, no ye can'na, Claire. I will no allow any hurrumph'n while I am responsible for ye" Murtagh spoke authoritatively. "If Jamie wants the pleasures of bedding ye as his wife, then he will hav'ta marry ye proper, first.

"Fix this" Claire glared at Jamie and nodded her head toward Murtagh.

"Aye, ye heard me lass. I love ye like ye were my own. Just as I do Jamie but I'll no be allowing the lad to lay with ye until the priest has blessed ye man and wife." Murtagh pronounced firmly. "The lad will sleep in the room with me tonight. Tomorrow, we will find ye Uncle Lambert and Jamie will ask him proper, for his permission te court ye. And ye two will respect this courtship period until the bans have been read three times and the priest had declared ye wed. Ye will behave proper when ye are out during the day as well. Proper displays of affection, only. No more kiss'n or have'n the lass sit on ye lap like a common whore, Jamie. I have better things te do than keep ye two separated. I can'na be between ye all day, ye hear me?"

"Ask Lamb's permission to court me?" Claire squeaked. "Are you kidding me? I don't even know what courting rules are. Really?"

"Murtagh," Jamie began. "Ye ken Claire and I have already lain together..."

Murtagh cleared his throat for what Claire noted was the fourth time. She was most definitely going to have a look down his throat and if he kept this 'courting thing up' she might just accidently jab his tonsil with the tongue depressor. "Aye Jamie, I ken and no Jamie, that will'na not allowed again, no on my watch. Sorry Lad. Get the Uncle's permission, and then I can look the other way when ye giver her a wee kiss Good Night, but no more than that" Murtagh looked sternly at both of them. "I'll hear no more about it."

"What?" Claire repeated again, still unable to believe this was happening. "Just why does Jamie need my Uncle's permission to court me? You realize arranged marriages are no longer done; they are a thing of the past?" Claire stated. She turned to Jamie and said, "Explain courting to me. What does that mean, exactly and what rules is he talking about? You need permission to date me? You have to ask my uncle for permission to date me? What if he were to say No?"

Jamie looked at his Godfather and opened his mouth to say something, but the look on his Godfather's face told him to keep quiet and he shut it. He gentle squeezed Claire's hand and turned to her.

"I love ye Claire" he stated the truth simply and got the conversation started. "Even though I was going to leave, ye ken in my heart I never wanted to leave ye?" He asked and waited to hear her reply. His eyes searching the glass face for any indication of her answer.

Claire nodded. "I know Jamie and I love you too. I knew you felt the same way that I did that's why, when it became clear you could not stay, I couldn't just let you go and I decided I would go back with you. I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces when you said _No_ to my returning with you. I realized this morning you weren't saying _No, you did not Love Me_ rather _No, you needed to keep me safe,_ but you had already left. I know now that is the reason you would not let me go back with you. I may not agree with the decision, but I can understand the reasoning and love behind it."

Claire turned to Murtagh. "I am so terribly fond of you, but NO, I will not be without Jamie. I almost lost him today and I will not be kept from him because of some moral code from the 18th century. He and I have declared our love for each other and we have already slept together. Call me a fallen woman if you must then, it is only a word after all, but for the record, I had never lain with another man before Jamie and would not take another if he had never returned. He is my heart Murtagh. It's the honest truth of it."

"Claire is my heart as well, a charaid," Jamie added.

"There must be something we can do to fix this" Claire muttered with a sigh.

"Handfast," Murtagh replied.

"Handfast," Jamie repeated. "Aye."

"Handfast?" Claire questioned.

Jamie stood, pulling Claire to her feet. "Come. Let's go back to the flat. I am fair starved. While you cook, I will explain. What have ye got to eat in the cold box?" he asked.

And they all walked back to the flat.

"Bean and toast alright?" Claire said as she set the plates in front of them and poured them each a glass of cold milk.

"Aye" Jamie and Murtagh said in unison.

"Good. Start talking. Who's up for explaining handfasting while they eat?"

Claire leaned against the counter, sipping her tea, as Jamie and Murtagh gave her the abridged version of _The Book of Handfasting – Rules and Etiquette_.

"Ok," Claire started. "I will accept the reading of the bans idea for the priest. We have to run an ad in the local newspaper announcing the upcoming wedding and most add them to church announcements... so I get that we are looking for people who might have just cause to stop the impending nuptials." She signed, reluctant to give Murtagh half a reason to keep Jamie from her bed tonight. "Now, if I understand handfasting, it's like a temporary marriage...

"Aye, Sassenach." Jamie interrupted a bit too enthusiastically for Murtaghs sake. "We'd have a year and a day to have a priest wed us. That would give us plenty of time to find one and have the bans read." and he smiled. "I canna see any reason why someone would object," and he shot a look at his godfather.

"The whole idea is a pair making declarations of love to one another until a priest could be found and perform the actual ceremony" Murtagh stated simply.

"Oh, well if that's what this all boils down to, then Jamie and I are already married. Have been from the second night." Claire announced and smiled at Jamie. "Problem solved," and she reached out her hand to Jamie and said, "ready for bed darling?" and batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly.

Jamie could not get up from the table fast enough. He had not even finished his supper. He was suddenly no longer hungry for food.

Murtugh placed a hand on Jamie's arm and motioned for the lad to sit down. "Jamie, do ye ken what she is talking about? Have you and she exchanged promises? Vows?"

Jamie looked at Murtagh and then at Claire. "If Claire says we have, then we have" and he leaned against the counter beside her. Claire's smile went from ear to ear.

"Since Jamie canna remember any such vows, Claire, you will have to tell me what was said and and remind the lad when it was done, if you please. I will determine whether any handfasting has already taken place."

"The night we spent _together_ ," Claire began and turned to look at Jamie.

Jamie turned and looked at Claire and nodded.

Claire looked down and took Jamie's hands in hers. Rubbing her thumbs across his knuckles, she said "You fell asleep for awhile after we... the first time..."

Jamie freed a hand and lifted her chin until she was looking at him. He smiled and leaned down and kissed her. "Aye," he said. "I remember everything about you and that night Sassenach."

"Finish yer tale lass. Prove to me yer already handfasted and then I can go to sleep." Murtagh said with a huff. "We are going with ye to yer work tomorrow to meet Mr. Murray, aye?"

Claire turned to Murtagh with a surprised look on her face. "I'd forgotten all about Mr. Murray. Yes, yes. I will take you in with me tomorrow. You can spend the morning with him. That's a wonderful idea. I know Mr. Murray would love to meet both of you."

"Sassenach, finish telling Murtagh how we are handfasted so that we might go to bed as well" Jamie said with a wicked smile on his face. "Not to sleep" he whispered.

Claire turned a little crimson in the face but continued. "You see Murtagh, Jamie was asleep and I made a vow to him … I promised to love and honor him in sickness and health as long as we both lived and then I sealed it with a kiss. That counts, doesn't it?"

"Aye, I suppose it does. But Jamie dinna make the same pledge, did he?"

"No, no Murtagh. I said the words while he was asleep. I never told him of my promise that night." Claire turned and looked at Jamie. "I knew you needed to return to Jenny and Lallybroch. I could not ask you to stay, but I wanted to tell you, even though you were asleep, that I pledged myself to you. To you alone forever, my heart."

"Then all Jamie needs to do is repeat the same words back to you, Claire and we can all go to bed."

Claire turned to Jamie and said "Repeat after me Jamie: _I, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp take thee James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser to be my lawfully wedded husband."_

Jamie looked Claire right back and repeated: _I, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser take thee Claire Elizabeth Fraser to be my lawfully wedded wife."_

" _To have and to hold, from this day forward"_

" _To have and to hold,_ my Sassenach _, from this day forward"_

" _For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health"_

" _For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health"_

" _Until death us do part,_ Jamie. I love you _."_

" _Until death us do part,_ Claire. I love you truly _."_

Claire turned to Murtagh.

"Yes, lass. That will do. I have witnessed the handfasting. Kiss yer bride Jamie and take her to bed. Wake me in the morning" and he turned and left the kitchen. Moments later they heard the bedroom door close.

"Ye are mine now Sassenach. Mine to love and worship and grow verra verra aulde with."

"Yes husband. Take me to bed. And not to sleep. I have had a very stressful day and need my husband to relax me." She smiled, took Jamie's hand and led her husband to bed. She could not have been happier.


	19. Ch 19 - Memories Awakened, Answers Given

Je Suis Prest – Memories Awakened, Answers Given

Claire stood in the doorway of John's hospital room and knocked lightly on the open door. John Murray turned with a scowl on his face. "Who are you?" he barked.

It took Claire by surprise. She had not expected that kind of a response from the man she had spent most of yesterday with – chatting, laughing, crying and trading stories. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Of course, he does not recognize me. I am in my civvies, not my nurses uniform; she was still in her street clothes, wanting to introduce John to Jamie and Murtagh before she went to change for her shift.

With a slight hesitation, Claire took a step into his room. "It's me, John. Claire. Claire Beauchamp. Do you remember me from yesterday? Clan Fraser?" She did not need to glance behind her to know that standing just outside the door, standing in the hall, both Jamie and Murtagh had raised an eyebrow at _Clan Fraser_. She, or possibly John, would have some explaining to do later. She wondered if either of them would find humor in the irony of it all.

John's face softened with the memory and added a smile. Claire sighed and grinned back. She could see in his eyes that he remembered who she was; he just had not recognized her out of uniform. "I'm sorry to have confused you, John. I came in a bit early to see you and I have not changed clothes yet. I brought some friends to meet you. Do you remember the fella I told you about, the one that had left yesterday morning and I would never see again?" Claire paused to swallow as the words caught in her throat with the remembrance of just where her life was headed the last time she had stepped into this room, barely 24 hours ago. As she looked at John's face, Claire noted that he must not have had a restful night; he looked tired and there was a bit of a gray pallor to his skin.

John reached out to take hold of her hand as a sign of friendship and support. "I'm sorry lass. Forgive an aulde man and his failing eyesight" and he patted the hand he now held in his own. "How could I ever forget ye, my bonnie, brown haired lass."

A sudden movement behind Claire caused John's eyes to shot up and look past her. There was a fiercely tall, red headed, blue eyes man glaring at him as he walked into the room. In three steps, he was at Claire's side and possessively placed an arm around the lass's waist and pulled her tightly to him. _Mine!_ the movement clearly declared. Right behind him was a 2nd shorter man with a face covered in a dark black beard and mustache, glaring at him as weel, through small, black, rat like eyes. Neither looked particularly friendly.

"Tha I **mo** neighan donn, eil agadsa" Jamie allowed the words to rumble out of his mouth with a hint of threat behind them. ( _She is_ _ **my**_ _brown haired lass, not your)._

John opened his mouth and then shut it again. His eyes jump from one face to another and finally resting back on the tall man with a fierce grip on Claire. Carefully he thought about what to say before he spoke. "Gàidhlig? Sibh a 'bruidhinn Gàidhlig? ( _Gaelic? You speak Gaelic?)._

" _Aye, Sinn a 'dèanamh"_ Murtagh replied as he walked up to the end of the bed. " _Ged nach eil, na caileige. I chan eil facal Gàidhlig_ " and smiled like he had shared a joke. (Yes, we do, not the lass though. She does not have a word of Gaelic).

John returned the smile, sharing the joke. He turned and looked at the tall man again. He recognized the eyes immediately, from paintings that hung on the walls... "You must be Fraser. **My** lovely nurse, Claire, told me a wee bit about you yesterday. _O ciod a thubhairt I an-dè, mi riamh cinnteach an dùil ri coinneachadh ribh. Dh'fhàg thu I_ " he said as he squeezed Claire's hand protectively, his eyes never breaking contact with the tall man's. (From what she said yesterday, I certainly never expected to meet you. You left her).

Jamie squared his shoulders and raised an eyebrow. This Murray was protective of Claire. The bed-ridden aulde man was challenging him, to explain his actions and prove his worthiness of her. His Sassenach had only met the man yesterday. Clearly **his** Claire had a way with men, he was quickly learning, though he did no think Claire was even aware of the effect she truly had on his _gendre._ There was Frank, always groveling at her feet. Then his verra own godfather spoke of marriage to Claire, to take her back through the stones with him, after having known her only a day. There was also something in the way Master Raymond watched his Sassenach, though he could not quite put a name to the expression the man wore on his face. If he had to guess, it was more of _famille_ than _amoureux._ Now this Murray was protecting her as well. It irritated him but made him smile just the same. Claire had, after all, chosen him. _'S e sin eadar Sorcha agus I."_ Jamie said with inflection. _"Mar faodaidh sibh gu soiller a 'faicinn, tha mi air ais."_ (That is between Claire and I. As you can plainly see, I am back. To stay).

Claire looked from John to Jamie. Even though both men had smiles plastered on their faces, their eyes were locked; they were staring each other down. Clearly she had missed something. Words had been spoken between them and in doing so they had gone from English slipping back into Gaelic. Why? She had thought is was simply easier for them, to speak in their native tongue, but she was beginning to realize the switch to Gaelic was to enable them speak privately while she remained in the room, oblivious to what was being said. Whatever was being discussed, they clearly did not wish her to understand it. She could only deduce they were talking about her. She looked to Murtagh and he was standing there, straight as a board, feet shoulder width apart, arms folded across his chest with a half smile across his face. The same smile Jamie had on his face. There was only one reason for men to express such body language; plain and simple, it was a peeing contest and she was whatever they were peeing on, or over, or for, she was not sure which was the correct term for it. They were bloody well trying to mark their territory, HER. Men and their fucking testosterone. She'd had enough of that during the war. She would put a stop to this shenanigans right here, right now.

Claire turned and the sudden movement allowed her to step out from Jamie's possessive hold. All three men turned their focus on her. Jamie noticed that her movement placed her closer to this Murray _bodach._ (Old man). He raised an eyebrow at Claire and nodded, to show her he noticed and that while she had removed herself from his touch, she was still holding the aulde man's hand tightly in hers. He folded his arms across his chest and harrumphed. This would not do.

Claire turned, patted John's hand and released it, honoring her husband's silent request. "Jamie is back to stay, John. He and I were handfast last night and will marry properly as soon as things can be arranged" and she stepped back toward Jamie.

John looked at Claire as she spoke, adsorbing her words as well noting her body language showing him who she chose. Looking directly at Jamie, he said "Handfast, aye? _No a chleachdadh cumanta a-nis air a làithean. Dè thug ort smaoineachadh sin a dhèanamh?"_ (Not a common practice now a days. What made ye think to do that?) and he folded his arms across his chest and gave Jamie a bit of a glare in challenge.

Murtagh snorted in an attempt to contain a laugh. The aulde man was challenging Jamie. Murray had ballocks, almost as big as Jamie's Uncle Dougal. This was going to be interesting. First Jamie had to fend off Frank, that doctor at the hospital when they first found him and now this Murray fellow. The lass could sure bring it out in men. The handfasting would bide the lad some time, but he would need to marry her proper, and soon. Jamie would have to stay on his toes to keep the Sassenach in his bed, though she seemed eager enough for him now. " _Tha daoine a thàladh gu Sassenach mar seilleanan ri flùr"_ Murtagh laughed and slapped Jamie on the shoulder. (Men are attracted to your Sassenach like bees to a flower).

Jamie smiled and nodded his head in reply.

John's head shot a look at Murtagh as he spoke. His brow furrowed in thought. He liked the furry, rat faced fellow. He had humor. He smiled and laughed. Hard and loud, though not long. The laughter began to hurt his chest and he started to cough and his breath became shallow and raspy. His eyes squeezed shut in pain. Claire immediately leaned over John, her hands flat on the bed on either side of him, her face less than a foot away.

"John. Listen to me, John." Claire spoke with forcefulness and calm. "Listen to my voice. Relax. Relax. Good" she said as she saw John's face ease a little. "Listen to my breath and breathe with me. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Good John. Again. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. That's it. Again. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Much, much better, John. Can you open your eyes and look at me? No. No, no, don't worry. Let's just focus on your breathing, shall we? Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Jamie, can you pour some water in a glass and hand it to me please." Claire said, not removing her eyes from John, and motioned to the table beside the bed. "Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Good."

Jamie walked over, poured a glass half full of water and handed it to Claire.

"Lets take a small sip of water, shall we?" Claire said as she placed the glass to John's lips. She tilted the glass just enough to just wet his lips then took it away. She counted to ten in her head and repeated the movement, this time giving him an infinitesimal sip of the water. She noted that having John concentrate on drinking the water has seemed to calm him. She waited for him to look up at her and then gave him another small swallow of the water. She took the glass away and sat back on the bed, her eyes never wandering from his face. With her other hand she moved a lock of hair from his forehead, running her fingers though his hair like a comb. Jamie shifted and then she felt his hand rest on her shoulder. She looked up into a pair of worried blue eyes. With the same fingers she used as a comb, she softly stroked Jamie's hand.

"Better John?" she asked softly. "Or do you want me to fetch the Doctor?"

"No, no lass. I'll be fine" John said and patted her knee. "Yer friends made me laugh too hard 'sall. I'll be fine in a minute." John turned and looked at Jamie. "My name is Murray. John Murray" and he removed his hand from Claire's knee and held it out to shake hands with Jamie.

"James Fraser. Jamie." Jamie said and shook John's extended hand with a firm grip. John might be Claire's patient, and possibly her friend, but the man still needed to realize that he was Claire's husband. "This is my godfather, Murtagh Fraser" and the two men nodded to each other in accord.

"Pleased to meet both of ye. I have Fraser in my family history as well, ye ken. From the Lovat line. Beauly. 18th century. A couple of them have blue cat eyes and flaming red hair like yers" John said looking directly at Jamie. "There are several Fraser portraits that still hang in my home" John stated and watched them for a reaction.

Jamie and Murtagh exchanged quick glances.

"Aye," Jamie began. My da comes from Lovat Frasers as well. Back to The Aulde Fox, Simon Fraser to be precise. Murtagh's fath.. relations was Simon Lovat's tackman. My father had the same unique shaped eyes though his were a brown in color. My mam was a MacKenzie, going back to Castle Leoch and it's Laird, and that's where the red hair comes from. Her eyes were gray though. Don't ken where the blue eyes come from."

"Both yer parents have passed then James. I'm sorry for yer loss. Ye seem awfully young to have lost both yer mam and yer da. I guess that's why ye keep yer _godathair."_ John noted.

"Remember that I have lost both of mine as well John. By the time I was five, remember?" Claire interceded. "I brought my friends by to meet you for a reason. I told them about Lallybroch. I think Jamie and Murtagh might be in a position to help you. That is, if you would like, of course. Jamie and Murtagh are both very familiar with the running of a farm. Both grew up on family farms, you see. I know you need someone to look after yours while you are here in hospital, and then once you go back home, until you are fully recovered." She paused and took a breath.

"I have been on farms for most of my childhood, until I went to France to further my education" Jamie stated. "I have lived on an estate just like your Lallybroch" he added with a small half smile.

"My mother came from a family farm as well" Murtagh chimed in. "Her oldest brother took it on when her father died. She was a kitchen maid on an estate and as a lad I helped in the stables. That's where she met my da. Both Jamie and I are verra familiar with a farm's daily needs. We'd be happy to help ye out, while yer laid up that is."

John looked at them both. It was almost too good to be true. Claire seemed to trust them and if she did, that was good enough for him.

Claire had walked down to the end of the bed to have a look and John's chart. She did not like the slight blue tinge to his fingernails nor the chest pains when he laughed. "I have to get dressed for work, Jamie." Claire announced as she hung the chart back on the end of the bed. "Would you like Jamie and Murtagh to keep you company for awhile, John? I am sure they would be happy to stay until the Doctor stops by."

"That would be nice of the lads. I should get to know them a bit if they are going to be help'n out with Lallybroch. I would like to tell them about the farm, give them a key and directions to get there. Aye, if they have the time to spare an aulde man, that is" John stated.

"That would be fine, Sassenach. Maybe we could take mid-meal with ye when ye have yer break" Jamie said as he turned to her.

"Now John, I don't want them to tire you out. You do need to rest also. Just shoo them out. They know where the nurse's station is. They can find me when you want them to go." She smiled at John. "Let them look at that wonderful book you showed me. I think they will both find it very interesting."

Jamie walked with Claire the 4 steps to the door. He placed a quick, soft kiss on the end of her nose and then rested his forehead against hers. "I'll miss ye Sassenach. Come get us when ye are ready for yer noon meal, aye?" He squeezed both her hands and leaned against the door jamb to watch her walk away. He sighed as that bonnie arse of hers moved down the hall, her skirts gently swinging as she walked.

"Jamie" Murtagh began and he held up what could be a large book covered in leather. It looked to be the right size and shape of his parent's bible. The one his Uncle Alex had given them as a wedding gift. But he had only see it a handful of times. He would ken from what was written on the inside page... where his da had noted Willie's, his mam and his new brother Robert's deaths. Jenny most certainly have added their father's. He wondered if Jenny had added the births of Randall bastards. His Uncle Dougal had made sure to tell him about that.

"So" John began. "Who wants to tell me the truth about ye two?"

Both Jamie and Murtagh looked at each other then back to John.

John decided right then and there that he would never play poker with either of them. He'd loose his shirt for sure. "Look, I was'na born yesterday. I ken when two guys are not locals, but ye two are clearly not even from this century. The Gaidhlig is a dead give away. Maybe the rat faced..."

Jamie shot a look at Murtagh.

"...one, Murtagh is it, is aulde enough to have been taught some, but you, James Fraser. No. No one would have taught ye to speak it in this lifetime." John spoke with knowing.

Murtagh let out a small grunt and looked down at his hands that gripped the rail of the aulde man's bed. He ken this John spoke from facts, the truth. He and Jamie stood out, even in a crowd. Last night at the tavern was reminder enough. Except at the tavern the locals had rallied around Jamie. Treated him like the Laird he was made to be. The men at the tavern accepted them, embraced the differences, celebrated being Scottish. Jamie had commented that there were more plaids being worn, every time he went. Said the first time he and Claire had gone, there was nary a kilt, except the one he himself had worn. Last night, scanning the tavern there were at least a dozen. Several of the men had come over and talked to Jamie about beginning a class that would teach them to speak Gaidhlig, meet weekly to practice. Just maybe there was a reason they were here after all. Maybe they were sent here with a purpose. Murtagh looked up from his gaze and rested on Jamie's face. Jamie made a small nod. They would tell John. Everything. He took a deep breath.

John watched the two men. They had a closeness about them. More than father and son even. They had been though some tough events, had each others backs, he could see that clearly. Words were not needed between them. He could tell they had reached some sort of agreement. He needed to make sure it was the one he was looking for. He would start with a truth and see where that led the conversation.

"My name, if the bonnie Claire has not already told ye, is really Ian Murray. Ian Brian James Fraser Murray" and he stopped and looked at both men.

Jamie and Murtagh both just stared back. Jamie's mouth was open with surprise, Murtagh's was gaping. Good, John thought. Surprised the both of ye.

"You two want to close ye gobbs, grab a couple of chairs and sit down before ye faint like wee lassies, because I've only just started and it gets better." He grinned a Cheshire Cat smile at them.

Each took a seat on either side of the bed. Murtagh handed the leather bound book to him. It was his mam and da's Bible, for sure, as his hand stroked the cover, all be it several hundred years older than the last time he saw it. He dinna need to open it to ken it. He was not sure he wanted to read what was written; dinna want to ken the information nor dates the pages offered.

"So," John began afresh. "I am guessing I am named for your father Brian Fraser and for you, James Fraser. Can you confirm that?" he asked looking directly at Jamie when he posed the question.

Jamie glanced at Murtagh, then looking John right in the eye, nodded his head. Slightly. Once.

"Aye, I am James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, born on the 1st of May Seventeen Hundred and Twenty One. Born the second son to Brian Fraser and Ellen MacKenzie Fraser."

John placed a hand on the Bible and said, "well that solves that mystery. We never could ken why Lallybroch never stayed with Fraser but came into Murray care back in 1746, after Culloden. It also explains why there is no date of death written in that book by yer name, James. Yer sister Janet never gave up hope for yer return, I suppose."

"Last my sister Jenny knew I was taken away, in irons, from Lallybroch to Fort Williams by British Dragoons in 1740. I never wrote to her after I escaped. How did ye know?" Jamie asked. "How did ye ken it was me?"

"Claire. That beautiful woman of yours should never play poker. It was clear as day when she looked in that book yesterday" he chuckled. "She whispered your name as she ran her fingers over the page and shed a tear or two. There may be a bit of a smudge by your name now. So sorry lad."

"Aye, that's the truth of it." Murtagh laughed right along with John. "She'll never be able to lie to him and that's the truth."

They both watched as Jamie's face and ears turned red. Embarrassed but still proud of his Sassenach. He would'na have her any other way.

John took a sip of water from the glass Claire had left on the table beside his bed. "Now, I need to ken how ye came te be here." He watch both Jamie and Murtagh. Seeing they were not ready to speak about that yet John tried again, redirecting them. "I will tell ye a tale as to why I need to ken..."

John ended with "... they found the car parked close to Craigh na Dun, ye see. Nothing else was found. No the fishing poles or catch basket, jackets or lunch. Just the car and the picnic blanket. Gone like smoke on Auld Hallows Eve. No sign of what happened to them." He took a deep breath and wiped the single tear from his cheek and then sighed from reliving the loss. "It was my lad, ye see. My only child. And my da. I miss them like it was yesterday."

"If they went through the Stones at Craigh na Dunn like the fae stories I grew up hear'n, and I think they did, they would have tried for Lallybroch. I am sure of it" John began again. "I was sure if they made it, they would have left me a sign or a note or carved their names somewhere. I've torn the place apart look'n for a sign from them. To let me ken what happened. If they did, I never found it. My father's name was Ian Alastair Robert MacLeod Murray so I doubt he would have used his real name for obvious reasons. He would have been around 50 years of age." John spoke, trying to keep his voice steady as he he did. "My son's name is Ian William Robert MacKenzie Murray so I doubt my father would have allowed him to use his real name either. We always called him Angus because he did not like Willie. He thought Angus sounded so much more braw. Just a lad trying to be a man, I suppose. He was just 8 when they went miss'n."

"In the top inside pocket of my coat, is my billfold. If you would get it for me, please Murtagh. I have a photograph taken about the time they disappeared." John motioned with his hand to the coat draped over the back of Murtagh's chair.

With further directions, Murtagh retrieved the piece of folded leather and handed it to John. As he returned to his seat he glanced at Jamie, who was now the color of sheep's wool. He cleared his throat to get his godson's attention but Jamie's eye were riveted on John. John unfolded the bit of leather and removed a worn slip of paper from within the folds. He gave the paper the briefest of glances, like he had looked at it so many times he had it memorized, and handed it to Jamie. The lad held that small tattered piece of paper between his two huge paws like it was a new born cheetie and made a small gasping noise when he looked at it. You'd think he was staring at a note from his mam or da, from the look on his face. Whatever was on that paper, Jamie had recognized it and was shook by it. Murtagh extended his hand and motioned with his fingers for Jamie to give it to him. It was a wee flat painting, with no color to it at all, just black and white, of a man with his arm around a lad. Looking back with... Fraser eyes and wearing Fraser grins. "Are these them?" Murtagh looked up and asked in shock. He flipped the paper over. It was stark white on the back.

"Yes" was all of John's reply. He was too busy watching Jamie to utter more.

Jamie just nodded. He could not find the words...

John gasped. He suddenly ken Jamie recognized them. "You've seen them" he croaked.

"Aye," Jamie whispered, still in shock. "I ken the names. They did leave ye a message, though I would ha been surprised if ye'd ever found it. Stephen Taylor and his grandson Angus were the names they gave my da and mam, she was still alive as was Willie when they first came. Angus and Willie were best mates until Willie died. Angus took Willie's death as hard as I did, maybe harder" and Jamie signed heavily.

"That's when Angus started to take me fishing. I ken there was something off about those poles. The way they came apart and fit into that wee bag. Never saw anythin'n like 'em. _Casting Rods_ Mister Taylor called them. And those pants they wore when they fish'd, stand'n in the middle of the burn. Made Willie and I laugh to see Angus in 'em. _Waders_ , Angus called 'em..." and Jamie smiled at the thought.

"Stephen Taylor was my wife's father's name. It would have been an easy name for Angus to remember."

"You ken them then, Jamie? The man's missing father and son?" Murtagh voiced, motioning his head toward John. "They were at Lallybroch?"

"Aye, They were nice folk. Good Neighbors. Lived at Lallybroch, in one of the tenant cottages until Mister Taylor married." Jamie spoke to the memory rather than John. His eyes moving like he was reliving the time.

"Married? My da re-married?" John uttered in amazement.

"In Broch Mordha, aye." Jamie said shaking his head in disbelief. "They... Remember the Widow MacLeod, Murtagh? Stephen Taylor married her. She had 3 lads from her first husband, who died of the croup the winter before they came. Her oldest was Broch Mordha's smithy. Malcolm. Malcolm had a wife and 3 bairn; two lads and a lassie. Was teach'n his oldest, Duncan to follow in his footsteps but when Angus was aulde enough and showed an interest, he taught Angus the trade as well. Last I heard, he was sweet on Malcolm's daughter, though I do'na ken if he ever wed her." Jamie shook his head to clear the visions and looked up. "I don't ken much more than that. At 14, I went to live with my mam's folk and then went to France to University. Don't remember hearing much about them after that."

Jamie looked at John. The man had tears streaming down his face, wiping his dripping nose on his sleeve. When Jamie finally focused on him, John gave him a big smile. "Thank ye" was all John could manage.

Jamie stood up and walked out of the room and down to the nurses station. Claire was there. She looked up and smiled her bonnie smile at him. Her face scrunched into worry a heartbeat later and she immediately set down the papers in her hand and came to him. She gathered him into her embrace and he melted, right there, in front of her fellow nurses. As he cried, she pulled his head into the furrow of her neck, gently rocking their bodies and humming a tune he did'na ken; she was mending his broken heart and healing his saddened soul.

From the doorway of John's room Murtagh watched. Jamie had found his healer. The half piece of a broken lad was now, finally, a complete man. 'Twas like watch'n Ellen and Brian all over again. He nodded at Claire and walked back into the room. He and John needed to talk.


	20. Chapter 20 - Frasers Return to Lallybroc

Je Suis Prest – Frasers return to Lallybroch

Claire disembarked the bus at the stop just prior to her own. She needed to go to the corner market and the butcher before making her way back to the flat. She need to get groceries for Jamie and Murtagh to tide them over for several days. Until they learned how to make their way around Lallybroch and Broch Mordha or she could get back to help them get sorted. They would need to survive on what she brought with them.

John had told them to make themselves at home; eat and use whatever they needed as he handed Jamie the keys to Lallybroch but Claire wanted to make sure they had the staples and enough fresh produce. Jamie alone could eat an entire cow when he was hungry and a dozen eggs would be a snack before bed. She knew there were chickens, so there would be eggs in a pinch, but John had not mentioned a pantry and she was sure there would be no milk or bread or whiskey. Without proper provisions, the two of them would either starve or make a sizable dent in John's livestock population; he would have no animals left when he was released from hospital and returned to the farm if she did not stock the shelves.

She was not sure Jamie or Murtagh would be able to use a modern stove but certainly the house must have a fireplace somewhere, even if they had to cook in the living room. Or, she thought, they could improvise and make a fire pit outside somewhere and cook outdoors if they had to. Jamie had said he and his Godfather had been roughing it in their travels from Edinburgh to Inverness; camping, hunting and foraging the land to survive. But it was winter now. She'd have to have faith that her two Highland Warriors could manage until she could get back. Jamie had talked about rabbit stew being one of his favorite meals his sister Jenny would make. Surely they could catch a rabbit, if they could find one. How did one catch a rabbit anyway, she wondered?

They were leaving for Lallybroch tonight, all traveling together in Frank's car but Claire would have to come back to Inverness with Frank this evening. As much as she wanted to stay, she couldn't. She was scheduled to work for the next 4 days. She had just come back from taking several days off, she simply could not ask for more time and keep her position; she did not feel she could ask it of her fellow nurses to juggle days to cover for her yet again. Claire would have to look into taking the bus to Broch Mordha on her next scheduled days off.

Frank pulled up and parked just outside Claire's building. He had agreed to meet up with everyone at her place and drive out to Lallybroch tonight. He was leaving for Glasgow, by car, tomorrow, early and would be gone for almost a week. He had scheduled appointments with the Glasgow Museum of History as well as The University of Glasgow's research department. Both appointments had been booked months ago and he absolutely needed to keep them. He would not be given another opportunity like this. He was going into the vaults at both sites. He had pulled some strings and was going to not only see, but be allowed to handle some very rare and unique letters pertaining specifically to the 1746 Battle at Culloden Moor. Personal letters written by Lord Melton, Colonel of the 46th Regiment of foot; a large coup. It was a huge boost to his research. He had told Claire he was happy to drive everyone out to Lallybroch but it was either tonight or wait until his return.

Quite honestly he really wanted to be there to witness, first hand, Jamie and Murtagh's return home. Another unique opportunity for him as a historian, much like their visit to Castle Leoch. To be given a guided tour of the 200 year old dwelling by someone who had actually lived in it. It sent shivers down his spine as he remembered Jamie's monologue as they had walked through Castle Leoch. Fraser, Frank believed, had an eidetic memory; Castle Leoch had been in ruins but Fraser had remembered every turn and every room down to the smallest of details. Frank had hung on Fraser's every word, drawing him in, making him feel like he was right there walking the great halls beside Jamie. The images had been so real, so vividly painted with words, Frank thought he could almost smell the meats roasting in the kitchen, taste the ale on his tongue and hear the people talking.

If he had to be totally honest with himself, he was becoming quite attached to the two Scots. He liked being around them, enjoyed the time he spent with them. He could listen to them banter back and forth all day; the men had quite a bond. They were true Scots and could spin a tale that would have you on the edge of your seat and always wanting more. Both Jamie and Murtagh shared the same dry wit and had quick, sharp minds though the Godfather was a bit more reserve than young Jamie. It was hard to believe Fraser was only 22 years of age; he had seen and done things, much older men could only dream of. He grasped new concepts and information quickly. Jamie was a bit of a sieve, adsorbing everything Claire, he and Lambert told him, and he retained what he learned, you never had to tell him anything twice unless it concerned modern conveniences; cars, phones, stoves and such still stymied him a bit. When Frank took them to Craigh na Dun yesterday morning, he had honestly felt a sadness; it was a bit of a surprise when he admitted to himself that he would miss them. He found himself thinking of them, perhaps as extended family or good friends. This natural easiness was something he had never really had with other men and he would certainly never tell either Fraser. He wondered if either of them felt the same comradery with him. While similar to his relationship with Claire, Franks need or want for Claire was totally different. Although he had a comfortable friendship with Claire he had always wanted more, more it seemed than she was willing or could to give him. She certainly had never looked a him the way she looked at Fraser. He'd never heard her laugh until Fraser showed up.

Randalls had money you see. Lots of it. Frank had never wanted for anything his whole life, except family. Even now, if he wanted it, he only had to express his desire to his parents and he would receive it, like the car. He had wanted the totally impractical two passenger sports car because he thought Claire might be impressed. _Ha_ , he laughed at his own stupidity. He did not tell people about the money. Not that he minded people judging him by his wealth; he rather enjoyed having the things money could buy him or do for him. It gave him a feeling of superiority, being better than most everyone, because he came from money.

He was _Frank Wolverton Randall,_ actually Franklin, though he never told ANYONE his birth name and never signed paperwork as such. Always Frank and not a 2nd or a Junior; Franklin was his Grandfather's first name, his mother's father. The first male Randall of every generation was a _Wolverton Randall_ , though first names varied, all the way back to the 1800's. Jamie's time. _Captain Jonathon Wolverton Randall of his Majesty's Eighth Dragoons_. Seeing and hearing Jamie exploits with the Captain had actually made him regret the family connection for the first time.

Frank had no brothers or sisters. His mother had produced a male heir with their first child so they were done having babies and went back to the social gatherings and traveling which had made up their lives prior to his birth. They left him at home in the care of the nanny. He could not remember his parents at home for a birthday or Christmas nor could he find a picture as proof that they come home long enough to help him celebrate any childhood milestones. Not even his graduation from University, and that he could clearly remember.

Nanny Wilson. Now there was a strict, straight laced, by the books, drill sergeant if ever there were one. Breakfast at 7am sharp. No sleeping the day away. Brisk walk for an hour about the gardens or play a game of chess with Mosby, the butler, if it was raining or snowing. He had riding lessons every afternoon and three days a week he had shooting lessons as well. He knew his way around a rifle as well as a gun. He was even a pretty good shot with a bow and arrow. At age 5, he was given a tutor; reading, writing and arithmetic. His tutor was Mr. MacGregory. Frank had learned to read from books about the Jacobite rebellions, from a Scot's perspective. The British were always the bad guys. He never told his parents. He was sure his father would have disapproved and fire the man for blasphemy or some such nonsense.

Life was certainly a bowl of cherries until age eight when he was accepted to THE Prep School - Greenways School in Sussex. He was a Blues Boy. He learned to play tennis and golf and was a member of the debate team. In this British boarding school, he learned about the Jacobite rebellions from the Brit's perspective, enlightening him to the knowledge that there are two sides to every coin, so to speak. He was by no means one of the popular boy but he survived because he was smart. He helped the other boys study, pass exams and write term papers so he was left alone by them, almost protected, because he was of use. Two of these boys were now serving in the House of Commons, several more were local barristers, one quite prominent. Contacts, that's what he made in Prep School and University, not friends. That's how he got this chance at the Lord Melton Papers. It's all about Who you know and he knew the Head of the History Department at University and a school mate serves on the board at the Museum.

His parents lived in London. He saw them once a year on his father's birthday; his mother always threw elaborate birthday parties for him. Usually some sort of Themed Masked Ball at an important venue. He made the mistake of missing it just once. He would never make that mistake again. He had been in Bloody, Bum-Fuck Egypt. A place hotter than Hades, he was quite sure. It had taken almost 10 days, using various forms of travel to get from London to the dig site of one Quentin Lambert Beauchamp. He needed to pick the old man's brain for his doctorate work and the bloody man was never in one place long enough for Frank to ever track him down by letter to make the arrangements for a visit. He was not going to shorten the visit just because his father was a year older. You see, while there, Frank fell in love with a then 14 year old Claire, also Quentin's niece, and had never wanted to leave her side.

Claire set the two totes down and placed her key in the lock. Before she could turn it Jamie opened the door, scooped her into his arms and kissed her, long and hard.

"I missed you too, Jamie" Claire said when the kiss ended and gave him a lite kiss on the lips in return. "Help me with the bags, will you ple..." Jamie pushed her up against the wall kissing her again before she could say anything more. Passionately.

This time she was panting slightly when he released her.

"What did ye purchase then, Sassenach?" Jamie asked when they finally separated, for the sole purpose of needing to breathing. "Ye ken we are going straight to Lallybroch. Frank is already here. Did ye not see his automobile out front?" Jamie asked after he kissed her quickly again and released her from the wall. He scooped up the carrying totes and closed the door with a solid push from his foot. Claire noted the overnight bags in the hall by the door. They were packed and ready to go, so it looked.

"Did you remember to pack your toothbrushes?" Claire asked smiling.

"Aye," Murtagh replied as he came to help with the packages.

"Don't unpack anything. This all goes with you to Lallybroch. I can not have you starve to death after all" Claire said. "I hate to leave you there alone. I won't be back until Frank returns or I figure out the bus schedule to Broch Mordha. You two will have to fend for yourselves for a couple of days. I don't want you reduced to eating grass" and I winked at Jamie.

"Frank, would you be a doll and go downstairs and meet the market's delivery boy. He is right behind me on his bike with two more boxes. You can put them straight in the boot. Just let me use the loo and then we can be off" Claire said. "We should be right behind you."

"What did ye get us?" Jamie asked and started shifting packages about. "Is there any pie?"

"Leave it" Claire said and slapped his hand and he set them down on the floor next to the travel bag. "I'll make your supper when we get there. Spaghetti. The dish with the long skinny noodles and red meat gravy you like." I dare not use the word tomato or, as much as Jamie raved about the dish the first time I made it for him, he would never have placed a morsel to his lips if he knew it had finely chopped zucchini and mushrooms as well as those deadly tomatoes.

I notice the H.G. Wells book on the table by the door. "Did you enjoy _The Time Machine,_ Jamie? I asked as I backed up down the hall. "I'll return it to the library this week if you are finished with it."

"I liked it a good deal though I am a bit confused by some of things Mister Wells describes. Perhaps over supper you and Frank wouldn't mind discussing it a wee bit, so I have a clearer idea of what he is talking about" Jamie requested. "One of the pages in the front of the book listed other works by Mister Wells. _The Invisible Man_ is a promising title."

"I was thinking maybe you should start another new author as well. Perhaps Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas or maybe Jules Verne. John said Lallybroch has a substantial library though I am not sure how current it is. It might all be books you have already read" and she smiled at him. "You and Murtagh go ahead and take the bags downstairs. I'll only be another minute."

In less than 5 minutes Claire had changed into slacks and a sweater, grabbed her coat, run down the stairs and out the door. Jamie lifted her into the back seat beside Murtagh. After a quick stop to fill the car with petrol, they found themselves on the A-82. John's directions were perfect and as the car rounded a hill, Jamie gasped and grabbed the dash with both hands. Frank immediately pulled the car to the side of the road and brought it to a stop. From their purchase on the side of the hill, they looked down on a collective of stone buildings nestled quietly in the bit of a valley. Most of the buildings were a single story, except for one; the main building, easliy the largest of the group and looked to have three stories, figuring a row of windows represented a floor. There was a tower behind the main building, appeared to be about the same height. If you were standing in front of the house, you probably would not have even realized it was there. It stood straight and tall.

"It's really there. Lallybroch. We found it." Jamie turned and smiled at Frank and then at me. "Thank you Sassenach. My heart is soaring." Frank pulled back on to the road and we continued toward our destination.

"Broch Tuarach still stands." Shaking his head in disbelief, Jamie turned and whispered to his Godfather. Murtagh placed an understanding hand on Jamie's shoulder and squeezed it ever so slightly. Ten minutes later, they found themselves driving under the arch and into Lallybroch's turnaround. The whole trip made in a little under an hour. They still had another hour of sunlight. Plenty of time for Jamie and Murtagh to check on the animals and have a quick look around and for Claire to prepare supper.

Jamie slowly opened the car door and unfolded himself from the vehicle. Claire noticed he did not take his eyes off the main house; they were darting to and fro, taking the entire front of the house in. He was so engrossed in what stood before him, that Murtagh, having climbed out himself, walked around the car and lifted Claire out as well. The three of them, Murtagh, Frank and Claire stood silently as Jamie slowly crossed the parking area and climbed the steps, placing the palm of his hand against the door. Claire could feel the pull in his heart as he rested his forehead against the door. She was sure his eyes were closed as he whispered the names of the family he had left behind – Jenny, Ian and their children. Claire had been so excited to have found Lallybroch and to make this real for him, she had not even thought about the ramifications of what seeing it would mean for him or to him. His family was gone. Only Murtagh remained. The house would be empty of the love, warmth and noise that family made that had always made it his home. When he opened that door, would any of it really be the same?

Claire moved to walk to him, but Murtagh placed a hand on her arm and whispered "Give the lad a minute alone with his ghosts, aye? He needs to make peace with his sister. I ken Jenny, she's still here, waiting for him to come home to her. Her ghost will no be happy either with the gob either."

Claire looked at Murtagh, smiled and shook her head. Ghosts, she thought. Would this house, this Lallybroch, still be that for him? His home? Claire looked at the beautiful stone dwelling in front of her, the stonework was amazing. Though not colorful they fit like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The approach was typical of most manor homes, the drive made of small stones, crunching under Jamie's feet as he had approached the house. The house had broad, welcoming stone steps, 4 of them, that led to a small serviceable porch complete with an old and weathered door mat. When Claire approached, she saw the mat simply stated _**Go Away**_. _Oh John_ , was her immediately thought then her heart went to Jamie. Poor Jamie, that would not be the welcome Jenny would have given him upon his return home. The entire Murray family would have met Jamie and Murtagh as they had ridden up, she was sure. Dogs barking their welcome as well. There would have been hugs and kisses and everyone trying to squeeze through the door as a single being; no one wanting to let go of anybody. Jamie said he had been gone from Lallybroch for several years when he came through the stones to me.

The front door was a single, enormous, very solid looking piece of wood. Not elegantly carved, pretty plain for a main entrance. It did have a decorative lintel, not ornate but tasteful. Were those strawberries carved on it? She could not tell from this angle. The door had a rather large and very ornate door knocker in the shape of lion's head and a mail slot as well. There was a small, brass plate placed on the wall beside the door that had _**Lallybroch 1716**_ inscribed on it.

"Jamie" Claire said as softly as she knew how. "I'm here. Right here for you." She reached out and placed her finger tips on his back. He probably did not even feel it through his coat.

Jamie rolled his head to look at her. Never allowing it to leave contact with the door. Tears were flowing down his face, beside himself with anger, emptiness, guilt and a myriad of other emotions she could not put to name. "She's gone Claire. I canna feel her. Jenny. I ken at the hospital, after talking to John about Angus and Mister Taylor, that they all were gone and ye held me and rocked me in ye arms while I came to understand the implications of all that. But this Claire... this is real. Jenny... Jenny is truly gone Claire. She is dead. All those loon sheep of hers that she asked my da buy... so she could raise them for their special wool... had to have the mindless beasts, ye ken. The coos and horses... the goat pen was right there Claire..." and he motioned toward the arch that lead into the car park.

"Oh Jamie..." I started and then choked as my voice failed me. There was nothing I could say to comfort him. There were no words to ease his pain. I rested my head against his arm as I started to cry with him, in commiseration for his loss. I slipped my arm under his coat and wrapped it around his waist and sighed softly. "Tell me about her, Jamie..."

"Ah Jenny..." and his voice cracked. "Bonnie, so verra bonnie. But she could be mean, like an adder, if ye crossed her. She'd fight ye if she thought she was right. It had been over two years since last I'd seen her, Claire. I had returned home from University in Paris and then almost immediately I was arrested by the British soldiers. I never saw Jenny after that. My last vision is of her with her bodice torn away and Randall threatening to take her in the house and rape her. In the Bible John has, Jenny did no list any bastards with Randall like my Uncle Dougal told me Jenny had. Two my uncle said. Ian must have have come back to Lallybroch when I asked him to and taken care of Jenny. Jenny and Lallybroch. The book shows they married in 1740 and gave Jenny gave birth to seven bairn. She lived a long life, the book says she dinna die until 1783. She have been 63. Do ye think she was happy Claire? Tell me, do ye think life was good for her?"

"Jamie," Claire started as she pulled him down to sit on the top step beside her. She looked up to see Murtagh and Frank standing on the bottom step, listening. "I'm not going to lie to you. I won't sugar coat it. Your sister would have missed you every day you were gone, including when you went to live with that Uncle of yours at Castle Whatever and when you went to school in Paris. She must have been very strong. She took on your mother's duties when she died. How old was Jenny? All of eleven, running an entire household? Then, what, she took control of this entire farm when your father died. Jenny was what age by then? Twenty-two? When she married Ian, she had a partner, to love and protect her. He gave her a family that they raised together. They shared the burden of running this farm. Look. Look around you. Look at what is left, after 200 years. That bloody tower is even still standing. Look what your father, mother and an amazingly strong and loving sister built for you. It's like Jenny knew you were here Jamie, and Clan Murray made sure to leave your legacy in tact for you find, never leaving her family's custodianship. I am sure it's so you could take your rightful place as Laird of Lallybroch. Oh, Jenny is still here my lad," and Claire patted Jamie's knee. "Of that I have no doubt. You will never convenience me that your sister did not have a hand in our finding John either. Carrying that bloody Bible into hospital. No clothes just the Bible. Shall we go inside and look for her my love?" Claire kissed the top of Jamie's head.

Jamie lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at Claire. Her eyes were red from the tears spent crying with him. "God, I do love you Sassenach" and he stood and offered his hand to Claire to help her to her feet, then he moved to the door to unlock it.

There was definitely not a woman about the farm Claire thought as she glanced around the front yard. The shutters all needed a fresh coat of paint, one was even hanging askew. There were no flower beds on either side of the front step nor window boxes or planters. Perhaps she could help with that in the spring, she thought. Spruce up the place. Might make Jamie feel better, make it feel more like home.

Murtagh moved forward, passing Claire on the top step as Jamie, fumbled with the key and finally got the door unlocked. He pushed the thumb latch down and swung the door open and slowly walked under the threshold. Murtagh followed close behind. Frank took a step forward to follow, but I grabbed his arm and held him back. When he looked over his shoulder I shook my head. Reflection crossed his face and he took my hand and we walked back to the car to get the groceries and took them into the house.

They were still in the hall. Murtagh was fingering some marks on the wall; the wood paneling had several deep, long gouges in them. Jamie stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on one of the banisters, his hand petting it in memory, perhaps a time he slid down it when his parents were not looking. The hall was large, both long and wide. It's length ran the depth of the house, ending at a large picture window with a window seat. Claire set the box she was carrying down on the floor by the door and walked down the length of it and kneeling on the bench seat, noting that it desperately need a new cushion, and looked out the window, which was quite filthy. It was going to take a small army to clean all these windows, inside and out. The hall was as wide as her living room. Did Jamie say he and Willie had played shinty inside once and received punishment from their da for it when he found out.

"Is that the barn Jamie?" Claire turned and looked at Jamie.

"Aye, it should be the barn. We'll go outside and check on the animals in a moment. I want to go upstairs first" Jamie said and he held out his hand to her. "Come with me."

I instantly did as he asked and we climbed the stairs together, hand in hand. He knew where he was going so I just followed along a step behind him.

"You know they won't be the same, right?" Claire stated as they turned right at the top of the stairs when she, once again, found herself walking toward the back of the house. "The bedrooms will be completely different. The furniture is long gone." The window on the second floor was a match to the one directly below, on the first floor, except this on was half the size. There were portraits of Frasers adorning the walls. It was easy to tell they were family; she could see a piece of Jamie in each of them. Claire supposed it would be the same with their child; the strong viking features would dominate the child's basic physical structure, she was sure, and her hand unconsciously rubbed her belly. There was a wonderful picture of two mischievous boys, the taller had a hand on the shoulder of the smaller. Both with red hair. The taller lad had gray eyes and smaller lad had blue. Both with the same cat shaped to them. I stopped short right in front of the picture. The smaller lad was holding... Sawney. I turned to Jamie and looked at him.

"Aye, and my brathair Willie, painted about a year before he died." Jamie said as his eyes moved over the painting. "This one is of Jenny" and he motioned to the next painting. "They were done about the same time." I looked into the blue eyes of a brown haired beauty holding a bird. "My mam painted 'em" he said and swallowed hard. "Hard to believe they are still hang'n here after all this time. Right where my da hung them." His foot kicked at the floor in thought, maybe of a moment while he and Willie stood for the portrait.

"Jamie, they are really quite good." I said as I examined them for another moment. I stepped back beside him. "Hello William. Hello Janet. I'm Claire. I want you to know that I love your brother with all of my heart. I promise I will take care of him, Jenny. Please do not worry for him. He is my family now." Claire turned and placed a gentle kiss on his arm. "Lead on then Jamie."

"I am yours and you are mine Sassenach. We will take care of each other now." Jamie said with deep blue eyes looking directly into to Claire's whiskey ones. "Rest well Jenny. Dinna worry for me."

At the end of the hall there was a door on the left and on the right. Jamie selected the door on the right and opened the door. It was an enormous room, larger than most master bedrooms.

It was beautiful. Walls covered in wood paneling and heavy drapes covered the two windows in the room. One window faced the barn and the other faced the side of the house that looked out over the road we came in on. I had misspoken. The bed had to be original to the house. A huge canopy bed with posts that almost touched the ceiling. The bed must have been built in this very room. There was no getting it out that bedroom door. I could only hope the mattress was a little newer. The bedding could do with a good wash as well as the drapes. "Oh Jamie, there's a fireplace. How wonderful. I've never slept in a bedroom with a fireplace" and Claire walked over to look. It had an intricately carved mantelpiece of ivy and roses. She ran her hand over the detailing. You just don't see hand carving like this any more. Her hand came away covered in dust and dirt. "Did family do the carving on the mantle, Jamie?" When she received no response, Claire turned and saw Jamie kneeling at the end of the bed and reaching up and under it. He grunted and cursed as one arm was underneath the bed to his shoulder; the one he had dislocated when he had appeared in my kitchen that fateful night. He cursed again as he smashed his face against the bed foot board.

"Let me move the hope chest," Claire said to Jamie as she walked over, grabbed the leather handle and dragged it out of his way. The chest did not belong to the bed or the mens armoire; it was made from a totally different wood than the bed. From the craftsmanship, you could tell it was a much newer piece. She opened the lid and found it to be cedar lined and a quilt laying on top...

"Ahhh," Jamie groaned as he reached further underneath the bed. "I can not find it."

"Just what do you think you are going to find under there after all these years Jamie? Did you hide your most precious toy in the bed frame? Do you honestly expect it to be there after all theses years."

This is not my room Sassenach. 'Tis the Lairds room. Where my mam and da slept. I was never allowed in here as a lad. It was verra special occasion to be permitted entrance. Scolding were done in the Lairds study downstairs and I had plenty of them. Lashes were done outside, bent over the barn fence" Jamie said as he remembered. "I had my fair share of them as well, Sassenach. I am looking for something that belonged to my da. I coveted it as a young man. Could'na wait to get my hands on it.

"Do you want me to slip under the bed to see if I can find what you are..."

"I have it, I think" Jamie interrupted and he pulled away from the bed producing an extremely large sword. Not one of those thin ones like the _The Three Musketeers_ dueled with. This was a broadsword, easily four feet long with a cruciform hilt and a wide, flat, double edged blade. It looked quite heavy however Jamie seemed to handle it with ease. He pulled it completely free of the bed, sat down with his back leaning against the bed's frame, and carefully cradled the sword in his arms. It was clear the sword had great sentimental value to him. His eyes wandered the sword from hilt to tip, flipping the sword over and over checking it from every side and every angle as if to reassure his memory that the weapon in his hands was truly his fathers. His memory validating what his eyes beheld. Once satisfied, Jamie spent several minutes just caressing it, running his fingers over the blade.

Does a sword's blade dulls if unused for 200 years Claire wondered to herself. Best not to ask Jamie. She'd know when he used it. If he used it. If he ever had to use it. She then decided that she hoped she'd never know. She sat down on the chest next to Jamie. "So this is the Laird's room and that is your father's sword. Does the sword have a name?

"A name?"

"Yes. All swords have names, don't they? King Arthur's was _Excalibur_ though I don't know any other famous sword names. I know Thor's hammer was named _Mjöllnir"_ and she smiled at Jamie.

Jamie smiled at Claire and shook his head. "No, Frasers are neither Kings nor Gods, Sassenach, but I appreciate ye thinking we are. My father's sword does'na have a name that I ken. Perhaps Murtagh would ken for sure. He will be pleased to hear it is still here."

Perhaps you should display it, on the wall in here over the fireplace. It is a fine piece. Do you know the history of it?"

"Aye. While my father built Lallybroch, my mother commissioned the local blacksmith to make it for her. She presented it to him the first night they slept in this house. The first night he was truly a Laird."

"Oh, well, you should called the sword _Lairdmaker_ then" and Claire giggled.

Jamie snorted and stood. He placed the sword on the bed and came to stand in front of her. "Well, I think we should contact the local Church in Broch Mordha and have the bands read so we can be married, propper and he kissed her.

While the men checked on the barn and the animals, Claire made a feast for their first dinner at Lallybroch. Spaghetti and meatballs. She heated a loaf of french bread, making small cuts to add butter, grated garlic and parmesan cheese. She made a garden salad as well and, _voila_ , dinner was prepared. She had splurged and purchased a nice bottle of wine that paired well with Italian food, according to the man that sold it to her in the shop. She had purchased an Apple pie for dessert and hand whipped cream for the top. She wiped down and set the table in what she assumed was the formal dining room, just off the kitchen and waited for the men to come in. She sipped a glass of wine while she waited, stirring the sauce occasionally.

It was dark when they came in from the cold; the temperature was dropping fast now that the sun had set. While Jamie and Claire had been upstairs, Murtagh and Frank had started fires in the living room, kitchen and a front bedroom that had two beds. Murtagh, according to Frank, knew exactly where to find the split logs and kindling, both neatly stacked on the side of the house by the kitchen door.

Claire found a sweater in a closet in the front hall and put it on. It did not fit her very well; she had to roll up the sleeves to find her fingers but it was wool and warm. She found an equally large sweater for Frank to wear. Jamie, it seemed, never got cold, running around the house in trousers, shirtsleeves and vest. Murtagh was obviously related to Jamie in the body temperature department although he kept his jacket on and he was wearing Jamie's other pair of trousers. Claire was going to need to supplement their wardrobe with work clothes.

Jamie and Murtagh were very animated about the farm animals. Apparently there were three horses, two were older, one was a young colt and not ridable; it had never been broken. There were a dozen Highland coos, long, red haired, shaggy beasts in a pen beside the barn. Before they would be able to let them out to pasture, Murtagh and he would have to ride the fence line and make repairs. There was a large sow, a handful of chickens and two goats. There was not nearly enough hay to get them through winter. First snow always came before Hogmanay as far as Jamie could remember. The house might have changed but he would bet the weather would not have.

"Could you speak with John tomorrow, Sassenach? See if he kens where I can get feed and hay for the winter. The pasture grass will hold them for another day or two but the first duty is to get the animals situated before the snows start. We will have a verra busy first few days, Murtagh. We'll need the horses to ride the fences. Best check the tack straight away tomorrow. I need paper and writing pen to begin a list, I think. There should be some in my father's study. I'll be right back." Jamie grabbed the candelabrum from the table and walked out of the room.

"Jamie" Claire shouted after him. "Remember the house has electricity. You don't need... " and she stopped. He had left the room and crossed the hall. She heard a door open. "Never mind. It doesn't matter..." The house had plumbing, heat and electricity, though Claire was unsure of any of it's age. She had shown Jamie and Murtagh the light switches in the hall, kitchen and dining room but had lit the candles and set them on the table for effect. It made the supper feel warm and inviting somehow. She needed to locate the bathrooms and make sure Murtagh knew how to work them, as well as the kitchen. Jamie had too much else on his mind. She needed to check the bed linen, make sure it was clean and find towels and washcloths for both of them as well.

She stood and started to clear the table. "Frank, make sure to start a list of things Jamie needs me to ask John. On the top of that list is to get someone out here to check the furnace; is it oil, coal, steam or electric? I would assume the water is from a well, but put that on the list to ask him also. I need to do the dishes and check the bedding upstairs before we go. I will be as quick as I can. I promise."

Frank looks up at her and clears his throat. "Look Claire, there is a ton of stuff for them to do before they can even possibly think about sleeping tonight. If Jamie and Murtagh are alright with it, I propose we stay the night. Four sets of hands are better than two. You need to be at work at 9 am and I need to be on the road by then. It took a little under an hour to get here. If we are up by 6, and on the road by 7, we should be back in Inverness in plenty of time."

Murtagh looked up from his 2nd plate of spaghetti and smiled. He placed a hand on Frank's shoulder and squeezed it. "You'll be sharing quarters with me then, I suppose" he said.

"You'd do that, Frank?" Jamie said from the door. "I would be verra grateful te have ye both here to help us settle."

Jamie looked to Claire, looked her directly in the eye and she saw the relief that seemed to settle on his face.

Seeing the look on Jamie's face made Claire smile. He was not ready to live without her either. Good she thought, and went to clean up the kitchen and boil water for tea.


	21. Chapter 21 - The Lost Lamb

Je Suis Prest – The Lost Lamb

The bus stopped at the center of town. Claire could tell because there was a statue. All village squares had some sort of statue she reminded herself. It was part of what made them so quaint. This one was not the normal _Some Famous Person on a Horse Waving a Sword_ statue however _._ No, this one was a bit unusual; it had two young boys on a horse being led by a man. The smaller boy was in front and had a handful of the horse's mane. The taller boy looked like he was holding the younger one, preventing him from falling off. Both boys were laughing. The man, Claire assumed to be the father, was looking at the boys with unquestionable pride on his face. All three were in traditional highlander dress and their long hair tied back in a queue. The statue was on a stone base, centered on a small patch of grass. There were four, very ornate, iron benches surround it. Very nicely done she thought. Taking in the sight made her smile.

The bus depot was basically a pole with a sign that read **BUS** on it. Across the street from the square there were shoppes: a real estate agency, a chemist, a grocer and a printer to name a few. Claire knew this center square would be the heartbeat of the small village. It would be the town's hub; a place where locals could gather during the day to meet and exchange news and gossip. There would most likely be an open market held here, perhaps one Saturday a month, with stalls of full of fresh produce, homemade goods, pots and pans, a smithy to sharpen knives, scissors and axes and more local gossip and news. She'd have to remember to ask Jamie if he knew if there was one this weekend. They should plan to attend while she was here if so. It would be a great way for them to introduce themselves to Broch Mordha; become acclimated to the the town and for the town to get to know the new caretakers at Lallybroch. They could begin to forge friendships, meet the shopkeepers, make contacts, become part of the community, all so important in a town of this size where everyone knew everyone and their business. This would be vital if they were going to stay and try to make a go of the farm and do business here. Her men needed to build a new life, to find usefulness now that they would be staying. She needed Jamie to want to stay because he had found a purpose here, not because his hand had been forced. Her heart skipped a beat as she allowed that thought to sink in. Jamie staying. And Murtagh. Her heart swelled at the thought of the three of them making a life here together. John Murray certainly could not have recognized the precious gift he had given to her or to them. Having Lallybroch for Jamie and Murtagh to look after while John was in hospital was, most definitely, a well-timed blessing. Hopefully, John would choose to keep them on permanently when he returned home. Who knew, maybe they could live on the farm though perhaps not in the main house... Would Jamie find that acceptable, she wondered? Could he live here as a tenant rather than the Laird and be happy? She acknowledged that Jamie and Murtagh would be helping John, but this opportunity of allowing Lallybroch to be their sanctuary, falling into their very lap, was almost too good to be true.

Jamie had never complained about his days in Inverness or the smallness of the flat she lived in, but having seen Lallybroch for herself, life here back in the home his father so lovingly built for his family and the small village he grew up near, Claire could not help but think that might help both men cope with their losses. Both Lallybroch and Broch Mordha were different from what Jamie and Murtagh would be familiar with, both with their more modern ways, but certainly each provided a familiarity, a comfort. The routine of the farm would hopefully offer them a slower, more relaxed pace and a sense of peace perhaps, if nothing more.

It was most definitely a sleepy town, a quiet village. Everyone probably knew everyone business; no privacy in a village of this size. Nestled in these hills. Could she live here, Claire wondered? Live with the smallness and quiet a small farming community would bestow. Could Lallybroch be a home for she and Jamie? Perhaps. Perhaps this was the place for them to raise the children they would have. She glanced back up at the statue and sighed as she rested her palm on her belly, still flat, no outward sign of the child she knew that grew within her. She would not show for months yet, she knew. She could and would give up her job at the hospital for the sake of Jamie and the children she would bare him. Where ever he was would be her home now. She knew that when her pregnancy began to show, the hospital would be forced to release her from their employ. Pregnant women were not allowed to work in hospitals or schools for that matter. A stupid law, she knew, but one she could not change. She needed to think. She could not just stand around Lallybroch and do nothing while Jamie and Murtagh worked hard to make something of the farm. John had mentioned to her that if everyone was in accord, he would like Jamie and Murtagh to take over the daily running of the farm. He was too old to do much more than keep the books and maybe select stock. She would need to find a way to contribute as well. She would never be satisfied being simply relegated to the house... making meals, washing and mending clothes and, of course, raising children even though Jamie, and Murtagh, might expect her to. Somehow she would need to find some sort of work, for herself. She would need a plan...

Broch Mordha had a lovely tree lined street that had not let time change it too drastically. The street still maintained it's cobblestones, quaint shoppes and homes, bordering both sides of the road. No chain stores or high rises here. She even noticed thatched roofs on some of the cottages just outside the village. The bus had passed more bicycles than cars along the narrow, winding road into town. It was now dusk. The street lights were not yet on but the windows of the homes were lit. Work had drawn to an end and the day was winding down. This was the time that families gathered, spent time together, congregating in the kitchen to help prepare supper and relish in each others company. Children talked of their day, school and sport matches, over the meal at the family table, trying to catch up on the time lost while they were apart. Families laughed and parents helped children with their homework afterwards. Perhaps they would all listen to the radio or watch the telly, read a book together out loud or discuss the news from the paper before going to bed. Each new dawn would bring another day full of adventures to be shared as a family.

Claire had longed for that life for as long as she could remember. Early readers like _Dick and Jane_ had taught her to desire such a life. She was especially jealous when her fellow nurses told stories of their personal childhood experiences and their families. She did not have it as a child, her parents both dying when she was so young. And Lamb, dear sweet Uncle Lamb had never lived in one place long enough for her to be immersed in that kind of environment or routine. She had promised herself that she would change all that. She would raise her children in a traditional family environment. She had a chance now, as she gently rubbed her belly. She had Jamie and the baby. She just needed to pluck up the courage and tell him. Why did she hesitate? She just knew he would be thrilled, that he would want to start a family... although... just maybe just not right now she thought. She allowed herself to doubt, releasing her mind, letting it introduce confusion and wander to negative thoughts. She blinked quickly several times in an attempt to stay off the tears she felt coming. Jamie had so much on his plate, right now, adapting to this time and the newly discovered Lallybroch. He had talked of marriage and they _were_ hand-fasted, she reminded herself, glancing at her ring less finger. She did not need to add to his many burdens right now. She quickly wiped away a tear that had managed to escape. Jamie was a man of convection. Moral and honest. He was kind, caring and he loved her, of that she had no doubt. She would be patient and wait. When he was ready, he would contact the priest. It was still too early to confirm the pregnancy anyway. She had to have missed her cycle twice for the hospital to even run the test needed to confirm what she already knew in her heart. She would not tell Jamie until she was certain. Christmas would be too soon, she would have to wait for the New Year. Surely she would know by then.

Claire collected her travel bag from the driver as he pulled it out from the luggage compartment of the bus. She noticed there was absolutely no one on the streets. Not a single cars had driven past. Except for the motor of the bus, there was almost no noise. Until this moment she had not realized just how loud Inverness was. She found the quiet quite appealing, much more to her liking. Almost soothing.

"Do you know where I can find _The Lost Lamb_?" She asked the driver as she looked around the square.

"Aye Lass. Straight up the wee rise and at the top turn left. Ye'll see the Tavern's sign. They dinna rent rooms for the night though, if that's what ye'll be need'n. If ye're looking for a place te lay yer heid for the night, ye'll be want'n Mrs. Stewart's just up the road on the right. She'll give ye a bed for the night, some supper and a good hearty breakfast in the morn'n. A man likes a lass with some meat on her, ye ken, somethi'n te hang on to." He winked and bent to reach for another bag. "Tell her Thomas sent ye and she might give ye a wee dram before ye go to bed."

 _Up the wee rise_ it was then, though by the time she got to the top, she was huffing and puffing. " _Wee_ my bloody ass" Claire cursed out loud. "It's a fucking hill, and a steep one at that." She paused at the corner and set her small bag down. Which way had the driver said? Was it Left or Right at the top? Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, she should have paid attention. She stood in the middle of the street and looked both ways. _Thomas_ had said she would be able to see the sign… She saw several signs, in both directions, but no _Lost Lamb_ and it was getting darker by the minute. _Damn you Jamie_. _Why did you not just met the bus_? Because, she reminded herself, you told him to wait at the tavern, stay inside and keep warm. The bus might be late and she could certainly walk a couple of blocks and find him. No worries. There was a flash of light, making her jump with fright; the street lights had suddenly turned on, startling her. Well, at least now she could see.

 _Alright_ , Claire said and started to problem solve. She needed to find the Tavern. When she turned to the left, and with the aid of the street lights, she saw signs hanging over the sidewalk on both sides of the street. As she made her way past some very lovely shoppes, she found herself smiling at the wooden signs that hung in front of the shop doors. There was _The Woolly Sheep,_ a yarn shoppe who's sign was a very fluffy sheep sitting in a rocking chair knitting what looked to be a sock. The sheep was even wearing glasses, of all things. _Mistress Gillie_ 's, which looked to be an herb and tea shoppe, had a sign with a lovely, ornate teapot. There was _The Bookworm_ , a used book store, whose sign was a lovely red apple with a bright green worm wearing a hat and a bow tie poking out of it. There was a sign with a mop, a broom, a bucket and a hammer that turned out to be a hardware store. Their window was overflowing with examples of their wares. There was the sign with a pin cushion and measuring tape. Yes, the tailor's shoppe, complete with a dress makers dummy in the window. As for the tavern, Claire was beginning to think the name was pretty apropos. _The_ _ **Lost**_ _Lamb_ indeed. The owner must have a wicked sense of humor. No site of the sign she was looking for.

After two more blocks, thinking she should have, in fact, turned right rather than left, she paused to take one last look before she turned around to go back the way she came. The road took a dip and a slight turn and there, quietly standing, while tied to a bench, were two horses. And above them, hanging above the door, was the very sign she had been looking for. It displayed a large green bush, with red berries and just the back end of a black sheep peeking out from behind it. A very wicked sense of humor.

She stopped, straightened her coat and smoothed her hair. It had been seven days since she, and Frank, left Lallybroch early that rainy morning. She had traded shifts and worked two extra days so she now had 4 glorious days and nights with Jamie. Frank would drive up in three days to spend the last night with them and drive her back to Inverness. He was to give Jamie and Murtagh driving lessons. She smiled as she imaged Jamie and Murtagh behind the wheel of the farm's truck. Images danced in her head, making her smile. John Murray had said Jamie would need his truck to put in enough hay and feed for the winter. She had a list of contacts for Jamie from John as well - the people John had done business with for years and about the prices that had been agreed upon. Claire saw John before she left her shift today. He was doing much better but not out of the wood yet. The doctors still wanted him in hospital. She had to agree; his pallor had a bit of a grey tinge to it and she did not like it, not one little bit. John was most definitely unwell. He had given her a check for Jamie to cover cost of the supplies though Claire thought Jamie's pride would prevent him from cashing it.

As she approached the tavern, she sighed. Clearly they had remembered the arrangement they had made before she left for who else but Jamie and Murtagh would ride horses to a bar and leave them tied up outside. She smiled knowing she would find both men inside. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing Jamie again. She reached into her purse and removed the sliced apple from a bag. She had brought it as a snack for the bus ride but never ate it. She fed it to the horses though the one with the white blaze was a bit of a pig and nudged her for more. Jamie must be content to be back at Lallybroch she thought as she rubbed the horse's nose. To be back among animals and working outdoors. She turned and entered the tavern.

She walked through the door and into an under lit, very large, single room with a beautiful, dark wood bar running the length of the far wall. There were booths running down the wall nearest her, directly opposite the bar with several tables and chairs scattered in between. It smelled of smoke, sweat and stale air. The smoke was too heavy for just cigarettes. There was either a fireplace that she could not see or the bar had caught on fire. She removed her gloves and tucked them into her coat pocket then proceeded to unbuttoned the front of it as she looked around. There was a crowd of people standing at the back of the tavern, engrossed in conversation. She located neither Jamie or Murtagh there so she scanned the various tables and booths. Still no Fraser Men. She then turned her attention to the bar. There were several men seated there and everyone of them stopped talking and turned to watch her approach. She was the only female in the tavern, that she could see. Typical. She knew they would not serve her unless she sat at a table and was accompanied by a man. She harrumphed in disgust as she removed the scarf from her neck and stuffed it in her coat pocket as well as she walked. Jamie was usually very easy to spot – 6' 3" and a mop of curly auburn hair made him stand out in a crowd. But this crowd was all men, almost all of whom looked to be over 6 feet tall, and she'd bet more than half were red heads. Jamie had certainly found his people she thought and giggled quietly to herself.

Claire's gaze fell upon what she assumed was the barkeeper. Behind the bar stood an tall man with dark hair, pleasant eyes and a very friendly smile. He had on a white dress shirt, open at the neck and a tie loosely knotted around his neck. The tie was a plaid of some kind, not unlike the tartan Jamie and Mutagen wore, only the colors were different. Not a Fraser then, she said to herself. When their eyes met he raised an eyebrow as if in an unasked question. So raising an eyebrow was not indicative of just Jamie and Murtagh; it seemed to be the recognized Scottish sign for _What? Can I Help You? or simply a Question Mark._ She giggled again.

"You're a bonnie lass with yer curls and amber eyes. Single are ye then?" as he nodded toward her hand. "I see yer no wear'n a wedding ring." His dark eyes full of merriment as he spoke to her. "Can I help ye?"

"I'm looking for _James_ or _Murtagh Fraser_ " she stated and tried not to blush, but to no avail as she felt the heat come to her face. When she reached the bar, she continued "I am to meet them here tonight." She set her bag down on the empty stool next to her and laid a hand on the top of the bar. "I believe their horses are out front."

" _James_ ye say? Ye be look'n for _Jamie Fraser_ , then maybe? Ye must be _Claire_ " he said, rolling the _**R**_ the same way Jamie did. He took his sweet time looking her over as she removed her coat. He produced a low, soft whistle that made her blush deepen. She had not been whistled at like that in a long time. "He said to keep an eye out for ye. Himself said _Sassenach_ _and falt ruadh ruach (English and curly brown hair)_ but he failed to say _bòidheach (beautiful)._ If you ever get tired of aulde Jamie, you come find me lass" and he winked at her.

"Aye, Michael, keep flirting with the lass. I'll wager ye wife will box ye ears before Jamie can get te ye" the man sitting on the stool next to me said. "Glenna seven months pregnant with yer third wee 'un too." The comment had several men at the bar bark out in laughter. The barkeeper had the good sense to blush. He was a bit redder in the face than she was, she'd bet.

Michel straightened his shoulders, raised his head and shouted " _JAMES FRASER_!" toward the back of the bar then returned his attention to Claire. "My name's Michael, by the way. Michael McMahon." And he set down the glass he was drying, put his hand out and motioned for her to have a seat on the empty stool.

He pushed a glass of water across the bar to her. Claire supposed it was his way of telling her she was not going to be served any alcohol at the bar, then Michael started to inquire "What kind of work..." when a very pregnant woman appeared out of thin air. She slipped under his arm and pressed as tightly against him as a very pregnant woman could get. Both her arms ensnared his waist in an extremely obvious show of possession. "And this would be my lovely bride, Glenna" Michael stated and rolled his eyes a bit. The very young woman, was making it clear to Claire that Michael was _her_ husband and Claire got the feeling Michael was not too pleased about it. The wife, Glenna, had long, stringy brown hair, very uninteresting brown eyes, a plain face with thin lips pinched into a flat line. Not even a hint of a smile on her face as she glared at Claire. Perhaps her husband was a philanderer, Claire thought to herself. He certainly acted like one.

"This is Claire, hen. Jamie's Lass. No worries, aye?" and he kissed the top of her head.

Glenna almost immediately released her husband from her all-encompassing embrace and smiled at Claire. "Pleased te meet ye" and held out her hand, in friendship, for Claire to take. "Jamie is quite the catch" Glenna added with dreamy eyes. "Several of the local lasses have their eye on him, mind ye. Good thing he does'na give them the time of day. He does noth'n but speak of ye to us. Even his Gàidhlig lessons are all about yoo."

Claire exhaled with a woosh of relief. She took the woman's hand in a light grip and said "Hello. It's very nice to meet you. When is the baby..."

Glenna's eyes widened as she said "Yer English then?" and dropped Claire's hand. There was an obvious note of shock in her voice.

"Well yes," Claire replied as she watch Michael. She abruptly shifted her focus and followed Michael's gaze when he motioned with his chin to the group at the back of the tavern. She could see the crowd shifting, creating space. Suddenly Jamie's head popped up above all the others in the group and Claire froze. He looked first at Michael and then, almost immediately, his gaze shifted and fell on her. Claire suddenly realized she had been holding her breath until their eyes met and she sighed, audibly. His face went from a furrowed brow to a smile that spread from ear to ear.

He pushed past several people standing in his direct path to her and dodged a chair or two. She was shaking like a new born foal as he approached her with a ground eating stride, only stopping when they stood toe to toe. "God, ye look so bonnie Sassenach. I missed ye." He almost growled at her. He bent, placed both hands on the back of her upper thighs and lifted her into his chest, never breaking eye contact. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He slipped one large hand under her arse to hold her in place and picked up her bag and coat with the other.

Jamie turned and crossed the room with Claire in his arms, her face buried in his neck, inhaling the wondrous scent that made up Jamie. She took in the smells of leather, hay and horses deep into her lungs and held her breath for a moment. She gently nibbled his ear, making Jamie growl. Neither spoke. Using his foot, Jamie moved a chair and sat down bringing Claire to rest in his lap, their foreheads finding each other, even with their eyes closed. No words were necessary as they just adsorbed each others essence. Just needing to breathe the same air for a moment; to quiet their separate racing heartbeats into one, calm beat. His open hand moved up and down her spine in rhythm with their united heart; first rapidly and frantic evolving finally into slow, calm, rhythmic strokes. He took her travel bag and dropped it to the floor next to the chair beside them.

"Take yer sweater off, Mo Neighan Donn. I need to feel ye. I can'na through this wool."

In one swift movement, with Jamie's help, it was off, laying on the table and they were softly, gently, repeatedly kissing; his hands gliding up and down her back of her thin blouse and her fingers combing the curls at the nap of his neck. Touching. Reconnecting. While taking a much needed breath, their foreheads unmoved against each other, Claire spoke first. "Tell me everything" she demanded. "Everything you've done since I left. Tell me about Lallybroch. Tell me about you." And she started kissing his neck again.

"Shhuush, my Sassenach. Just be. Let me just hold you, touch you, ken you are really here. There will be time to speak later… Ye smell so nice…" and he kissed her softly again. Just the two of them. That was all that mattered.

Somewhere nearby Claire heard Murtagh clear his throat. Several times. Her mind told her to acknowledge him so she raised a hand and wiggled some fingers; a sorry attempt at a wordless _hello._ She could not stop kissing Jamie long enough to give Murtagh more at the moment.

"Jamie, lad. Ye ken yer in a room full of people. Watch'n, aye?" Murtagh grumbled and shook his arm. Jamie pulled his face from where it was happily buried in Claire's hair, and with glazed eyes, looked up at him and tried to focus.

"Ye two going to sit there like a couple of love birds all night or do I get to welcome the lass as well? Murtagh said with a stern look for the both of them. "Do'na make me enforce my chaperoning duties. Now behave." He stood there glaring at them with his arms folded across his chest. "I think the rest of the bar would like an introduction, Jamie. Where are ye manners? They've heard ye babble like loon about her for a week now and they'd like have a chance te say _How do ye do_." Murtagh cuffed Jamie softly on the back of the head. "I ken ye've missed each other but ye need to remember where ye are, aye? We are no home, need I remind the two of ye."

Jamie kissed Claire one last time on the forehead and allowed Claire to ease off his lap. Jamie, without releasing her hand, stood and turned to face the bar. The entire bar was quiet. Everyone was looking at them.

"Is e seo a h-uile duine Sorcha, tha mi an dùil" Jamie happily told the bar. _Everyone this is Claire, my intended_.

A cheer went up and people started coming forward, crowding around, everyone wanting to say their hellos. Claire quickly hugged Murtagh and whispered "I missed you" in his ear before turning to greet the newly formed aquaintences.

There was Tomas Macvey, owned a small dairy farm nearby and Rabbie his younger brother. Tomas was married to one of the local school teachers. She was home grading papers. Rabbie still lived at home with their ma and da.

There was Connor and his son, Duncan MacLeod. They were the town's blacksmith and Farrier with a shop just outside town & Henry their lovely, well mannered Border Collie.

Colin and Hip (Hippolyte) Hastie. They owned _The Green Grocer_ on the town square. Hippolyte was newly married with a baby on the way and Colin had a steady girl, Amy Pond. She helped at the store.

Apparently this was Jamie's first Wednesday Night Gàidhlig lesson. The day Claire had left with Frank, Jamie and Murtagh had ridden into town to pick up some supplies and discovered _The Lost Lamb_. They had both agreed that an ale would quench their thirst nicely before heading back to Lallybroch. Several of the patrons overheard Jamie and Murtagh conversing in Gàidhlig and had shown an interest. One thing led to another... inquires made, introductions exchanged and conversations began. One pint turned into several more, then whiskey was added to the libations. My men ended up giving an impromptu lesson right then and there and had agreed to make it a regular thing and Wednesday Night was agreed upon. Tonight's turnout was impressive. More than a dozen locals had shown up and then several more that just happened to be at the tavern pulled up a chair, eager to learn as well.

Claire should have known not to worry about them. Jamie was a born diplomat and could sell ice to Scandinavians in winter. He'd have the entire town befriended by Christmas, Claire was sure. And Mutagen would never leave his godson's side. Two peas in a pod, they were.

"Is that it for our lessons tonight then Jamie" a very feminine voice cooed and pulled Claire from her thoughts. Claire looked as a very young woman, probably not even twenty years of age, with long, honey blonde hair down to her waist and the greenest eyes Claire had ever seen, worked her way to the front of the crowd. This _child_ looked straight at Jamie and whined "I thought you promised I'd learn to count from one to ten in Gaelic by the end of class tonight? I've only managed àireamhan aon a-mach à sia." ( _numbers one through six_ ). Her lips ended in a pout with the completion of the sentence. She had the unmitigated audacity to then bat her eyelashes at him.

If that was not bad , Claire noted, the _brazen hussy_ then had the nerve to raise her hand and gently tuck a loose curl behind Jamie's ear, her fingers stroked his cheek as she lowered her hand. "You promised Jamie" she whimpered with that stupid pout still stuck on her face.

Claire sucked in her breath and Jamie squeezed her shoulder. _Was the hussy blind? Could she not see that she was standing right next to Jamie and that he had his arm around her?_ Claire wanted to slap the pout right off the girl's face but clenched her hands into fists instead. As Claire looked the trollop over, she found _Little Miss Incurable Flirt_ had on a very thin, very tight, red sweater. Claire would bet it was two sizes too small. It came complete with an extremely low cut, v-neck that, if nothing else, accentuated her ample bosom. Probably stuffed with tissue paper Claire whispered quietly to herself. Her breast were just a jiggle away from falling out of her top. If she leaned over, Claire was quite sure they would. The tavern was bloody cold too. Any sane person, with an ounce of common sense, would be in a thermal shirt and baggy sweater or a flannel over shirt. Where was this _child's_ parents, she wanted to know? Or her boyfriend? Was she even old enough to be in the bar?

Jamie grabbed her wrist so quickly Claire hardly saw the movement. "Mortag, I have spoken ta ye about keep'n yer hands to yerself". He squeezed it gently and then released it, allowing her to let it drop by her side. He immediately followed with "Let me introduce ye to my lady, Claire" as he pulled me tightly to his side. "As I have told ye before. I am spoken for. Claire and I are hand-fasted and to be properly wedded soon. Ye need to get that through yer heid, Mortag. I am no interested in ye that way. And the proper pronunciation is _G_ _à_ _idhlig_ no _Gaelic,_ ye ken?"

Mortag, not the least bit embarrassed by Jamie's reprimand, turned her gaze to me. She made no effort to disguise her disdain as she took me in with one obnoxiously sweeping glance that started at my face and ended at my feet. She gave me a crooked smile that was pure, unadulterated hatred. The look almost made me shutter. Jamie pulled me even closer and said aloud to everyone "That's enough for tonight. I need to get Claire home and to bed..."

Several men at the bar whistled and clapped. Claire did not care, though she did blush a bit. She looked up to see Jamie looking down at her. He kissed her softly and then released her. He handed her the sweater and once it was on, he helped her on with her coat. Murtagh grabbed Claire's bag and when they reached the door, Jamie turned to Tomas Macvey and said, "See you and Evelyn tomorrow night, aye? 5 o'clock. Ye as well Rabbie." And they left.

Once outside, Claire hugged Murtagh properly and whispered "I missed you very much this week" and kissed his cheek. "My flat was terribly lonely with out you two." and she gave the beginnings of his beard a gentle tug. "You look nice with a beard Murtagh. Very handsome. You'll have the ladies fighting over you before long."

"I missed ye too, lass. You are a sight for these sore eyes. I've had noth'n but Jamie's sorry face to look at ever since ye left." He spoke loud and clear, making sure Jamie heard every word. "He's done noth'n but mope since ye left. Tonight's the first smile he's had on his face in a week." He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes smiling. He held me by the shoulders at arm's length and said "Jamie says you'll be stay'n through Sunday then?"

"Frank comes Saturday to give you and Jamie driving lessons, then we will both leave together Sunday night, after supper. I have to work Monday Morning." Claire told him, sadly. "Jamie promised you'd put me to work while I am here. I refuse to allow my time at Lallybroch to be a posh vacation for me. The dirtier I get, the better." She smiled and laughed.

"Be careful what ye wish for Sassenach. Barns have plenty of shite to shovel." Jamie added. "Come, let me help ye up on _Raven_ here." Jamie checked the girth then easily lifted her onto the jet black horse. With a quick move he eased himself into the saddle behind her. He wrapped his arm around Claire's waist, pulled her tightly to him and covered them with his plaid. She leaned back into his chest, tucking her head under his chin as he turned _Raven_ toward home. Before Claire realized it, Murtagh was beside them, her bag tied to the back of his saddle. Once they were outside Broch Mordha, and there was grass beside the paved road for the horses to travel on, Jamie urged _Raven_ into a canter, and they were home in less than an hour.

Claire went inside to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil while Jamie and Murtagh took care of the horses. She walked to the living room and stoked the fire and threw another log on to burn. She found her bag in the hall by the door and scrounged through it until she found the bottle of whiskey she'd thought to bring and poured three generous glasses and set them on the table in front of the sofa. She puttered back to the kitchen and poured the boiling water into the tea pot and set it and three mugs on the tray she'd found in the pantry. She found some biscuits, plated them and carried the bounty into the living room. Jamie and Murtagh came in just as she set the tray down on the table next to the whiskeys.

She handed them each a glass of whiskey and raised her glass in a toast. "I have spent a lifetime searching for a place to call home. I have traveled, lived and worked all around the world and never found it... until now. To you my dearest Fraser Men. You are my home. Where ever you are. When ever you are. I can not live without either of you, for I would be nothing without you both."

"Slàinte" Murtagh said and raised his glass.

"Slàinte, Mo Chridle" Jamie said as he raised is glass to Claire. He placed his hand on his Godfather's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Mo theaghlach." _my family._

They all drained their glasses. Murtagh reached for the bottle and started to refill them. Jamie popped a biscuit into his mouth as he waited.

"Lass" Murtagh began as he handed Claire the refilled glass. "I have a question te ask ye."

"Certainly Murtagh. Anything." She looked at Jamie, who shrugged his shoulders in response. He popped a second biscuit into his mouth. He had no idea what Murtagh was going to ask.

"At the tavern... Mortag... I ken she is no yer favorite person..."

"Um, that would be an understatement Murtagh. I do not care for her in the least."

"You whispered _Probably stuffed with tissue paper_ under yer breath. I donna ken what that means." Murtagh looked at her intently. "I ken ye donna care for her, and while I do'na think ye wish her ill or harm, I am curious as to what ye meant..."

Claire turned red. She had been caught. Murtagh knew she had been unkind and was calling her out for being catty.

Jamie was watching Claire like a hawk... He had no idea what Claire said meant, but it was clear she was embarrassed about what she had said. His interest was certainly piqued.

"Well.." Claire began, trying to think how to explain. She held up her hand and said, "I think it will be easier to show you." She grabbed two of the cloth napkins she had brought in with the tray and turned her back to them. Claire giggled as she removed her sweater, opened her blouse and stuffed the two napkins into her bra... instantly enhancing her breast size. She re-buttoned her blouse and with a flourish she turned around and waved both hands in front of her bosomy new bust line.

Jamie and Murtagh both gasped. Both mouths hung open for the seconds it took to understand what Claire had done.

Jamie laughed out loud. The merriment clearly showing in his eyes.

Murtagh just continued to stare.

"Sassenach," Jamie stated as he approached her. "So I understand... What ye are accusing the wee bonnie lass of is 'padding herself' in order to entice a husband?"

"Well, I don't know if she does for a fact, I simply commented to it's possibility. No _child_ is naturally stacked like that, Jamie. Really. She is un-naturally large for a... for her age, I mean."

Jamie continued to stroll toward Claire. "And just how old do ye think Mortag is then, Sassenach?"

Murtagh interrupted. "Ye mean to tell me that women stick napkins inside there stays to push their breests up? Ta make 'em look larger?" He looked at Claire still confused.

Claire nodded her head. "Only some though Murtagh. Not all ladies are that deceitful. And not necessarily napkins. I knew a girl that used wool, like sheep's wool. And another that used tissues. Honest Murtagh."

Murtagh's face hardly changed. He was absolutely shocked that a woman could be that deceitful. He never ken they would do something like that..

"And what about you, my wee vixen?" Are you about pretense? Are you full of foolery and deceit as well?" Jamie asked as he stealthily approached.

Claire laughed and waved a hand at him.

As he reached her and raised and raised an eyebrow...

"Oh, no. No. NO. NO! Jamie... I would never.." as she backed up into the wall.

Jamie laughed and kissed her. With his body protecting her from Murtaghs view, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse.

Claire was shocked. She put her hand up to cover her exposed chest and whispered "Murtagh" and moved her eyes and chin in his direction.

"Shhss." He said as opened her blouse enough to remove each napkin and handed them back to Claire. He re-buttoned her blouse and kissed her again. "You donna need any such lurid enhancements, Sassenach. I like ye just fine the way ye are." and he allowed his hand to brush her breast as he kissed the tip of her nose and turned to help poor, shocked Murtagh understand the evils of women.

Together they were Home.


	22. Chapter 22 - To Bed

Je Suis Prest – To Bed

Jamie quietly opened the bedroom door. He did no want to wake Claire if she had already fallen asleep. After their whiskey and tea, Claire had gone upstairs to have a bath after a long day at work and then the long bus ride. Murtagh and Jamie had eaten at _The Lost Lamb_ but Claire said she was not hungry when they arrived back at Lallybroch. She just nibbled on a biscuit with her tea. Something was on her mind, he ken.

Murtagh and he needed to go over some receipts and talk about the work to be accomplished tomorrow. They had lost track of time and suddenly realized it was almost midnight. Jamie had hurriedly said goodnight to his Godfather and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He glanced at the bed and saw it was empty and still made. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and there she was... standing in front of the fire, still as a statue and silent as snow. Claire's hair was down, the way he loved it. The bonnie brown craziness about her shoulders and down her back. It was longer than he remembered. The day he arrived it was just past her shoulders but now, almost three weeks later, it was at least two inches longer. The light given off from the fire framed her body in silhouette, making her look as if she glowed. He caught his breath. Why did it always take him by surprise when he saw just how beautiful she was. Her shoulders were rolled inward and her head lowered as if deep in thought with the dancing flames capturing her undivided attention.

Not wishing to interrupt her reflection, he tried to close the door as quietly as he could. He was unsuccessful at best. The moment the door clicked closed Claire turned and faced him and he gasped yet again. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was dressed for bed, in the white shift-like garment that Claire called a 'nightgown'. It came to her knees. The neck of the garment was scooped and tied closed with a ribbon allowing just the hint of her beautiful white breast showing above the lace that adorned the neckline's edge. Buttons closed the rest of the garment down the front. The sleeves came to her elbows, edged with the same lace. But is was the quality of the fabric, the fineness of it... so sheer he could see the forest of her honeypot and her cherry nipples even though she was covered. It made his heart race at the sight of her and gave him a cock-stand, like none he had ever had before, just to look at her standing there.

He was, most definitely, a bless man and he quietly whispered "tapadh leat" _thank you_ as he looked upward in seach of Heaven.

His Sassenach ken the affect she had on him and she smiled at him knowingly. Her beautiful bonnie smile... just for him. He dinna have to share the smile or her with anyone until the light of day. That made him smile in return.

He found himself still smiling as he started to undress. She watched as he sat and removed his boots and socks, setting them by the chair. He saw her eyes follow his every move. His sword was hanging on the back of the chair. He did not wear it any longer. There was no need. He did remove the belt that held his dirk and sporran and draped it across the back of the chair as well as his coat. He turned and looked at Claire, not hiding the lust from his eyes. She lowered hers in shyness and turned to face the fire. He unbuttoned and removed his waistcoat and then his shirt, laying them both on the seat of the chair and then walked up behind Claire, his arms encircling her waist; pressing his very excited cock up against her beautiful round arse. He was most pleasantly surprised upon discovering just how nicely he fit against his most favorite of her body parts. Her arse and the valley the formed between the left and the right. Much like the valley between his second most favorite of her body parts. Her lovely breasts. He gave her a little nudge with his cock to let her ken how verra happy he was that she was with him. A movement that elicited a gasp from his Sorcha. He allowed his forehead to rest against the back of her head as he smelled the soap and lilac scent of her and she leaned back into his embrace. He immediately felt a calmness start to embrace his body. His shoulders relaxed and his body curved to form around hers the way a rose petal hugs the bud before the flower blooms.

Her left hand came to rest over his, fingers nudging for space in an effort to lace their hand together into one. She lifted his right hand and laid it softly over her heart, covering it with her own as he felt her heart beat as frantically as his own. Her heart, as if speaking to his, found their common rhythm and slowly, the two calmed into one shared heartbeat. They both sighed.

He removed his right hand from her breast to move her curls from the side of her neck. He began to softly kiss from her exposed shoulder up her neck. She sighed audibly. Music to his ears. When he reached her ear, he took her lobe in his teeth and wrapped his lips around it and began to suck. Claire moaned, leaning her head back on his right shoulder and tilted it to the side, exposing more of her soft, white skin and allowing him better access. He released her earlobe and started to kiss back down the way he'd come. He had every intention of marking her somewhere on this beautiful neck. A nice red bite where everyone would see it. He would have every male from Broch Mordha to Inverness ken she was taken, that she was his. Claire's fingers of her right hand were combing the hair on the top of his head as he kissed his way to the spot he had chosen and she softly rubbed her bonnie arse against him in appreciation.

He had settled on the spot, right where her neck curved into her shoulder and he started to suck and gently bite.

Suddenly her arse stopped it's motion and her left hand released his as well. He slowed his ministrations and with glazed eyes and half raised lids he looked over her shoulder to see why she'd stopped. He watched as she lazily untied the the ribbon that held the neck of her shift closed. He stopped sucking and biting and went back to gentle kisses and waited, with bated breath, to see what she would do. Teasingly, she ran her finger down the newly exposed skin between her breasts until her progress was hindered by a button. She carefully eased the small button through its hole and the neck opened slightly, exposing not only more beautiful, white skin, but more of her breasts as well. Her finger took up its journey south yet again, starting right where it had halted.

Spellbound, Jamie completely stopped his attentions to Claire's neck, with his mouth open and tongue halted halfway though a lick. He was mesmerized now by what her delicate hands were doing. Every time she reached a button, she pulled the fabric away from her body and Jamie not only saw her breasts when she did this but could look down the valley between them. He could see what Claire called her 'belly button', down her beautiful lean stomach to her lovely, brown forest. His eyes continued down what he ken to be her smooth thighs, past her knees and lower legs to rest on her feet. With every button she undid, he, quite unconsciously, rubbed himself against her. Five buttons she freed from their constraint. Five times he messaged her arse with his cock. He moaned with every button, wished that there were more. She sighed and pushed against him with every stroke he made. When Claire had unbuttoned the last wee button, Jamie realized he could almost see her nipple. He ken Claire was guiding him... his focus; showing him where she needed his attentions. He completed the lick he started, kissed the spot again and straightened. He removed his left hand from around her waist and slowly, gently, barely touching her, he ran his index finger from where he hand started his mark, down her shoulder. He could feel the shiver run over her skin where he touched her. His finger caught the edge of the shift's neck as it slipped along her shoulder along with his finger. He watched as more of her breast became exposed in the process until, when the neckline slipped off her shoulder, and like a feather floating down her arm... left her entire breast exposed and at his mercy. His left hand, with no need for instruction from him, instinctively cupped it and with his index finger and thumb began to play with her nipple.

He heard Claire hiss softly and he stopped. This was not the wee sound he expected from her. He was hoping for a moan or a sigh. Looking at her, he saw her eyes were slightly squinted, as if in pain. He rubbed his fingers together. They were rough and calloused from the work on the farm. He had no bees wax to rub on them to soften them or any of the salves Claire rubbed on her skin at night. He kissed her neck as he thought. Once... Twice... He lifted his head and placed his fingers in his mouth to moistened them then re-established his attentions to her breast. This time with a much more favorable response... she moaned, loudly, rolling her head and over his right shoulder so she was almost looking at the ceiling. When he pinched the nipple and pulled it, Claire just about came unhinged. She took that bonnie round arse of hers and pushed and rubbed it into his crotch. He growled at the movement. He move away for the moment it took him to undo the belt that held his kilt in place and let it all fall to his feet in a puddle. He immediately pressed himself back into her, his right arm slipped around her waist and hugged her firmly to him. And when she moved, he groaned, loudly.

Dear God, what had he done to deserve such a vixen. Now completely naked, he pressed his rock hard cock into her backside and repeated the motion that had made him loon just hours ago as they road home from Broch Mordha. Claire sitting in front of him, her round arse tightly wedged between his thighs and the motion their bodies made, in rhythm with that of the horse, just about had him climaxing in the saddle. He had barely made it home in one piece. Now she was doing it again, in the privacy of their bedchamber. He was not about to let this second opportunity go unanswered. Claire wanted him as much as he wanted her. Two consenting, hand-fasted adults. He needed this shift out of the way. He needed her naked, or at least her arse. He moved his hips back just enough to lift the shift.

Claire whimpered unhappily.

Two hands and one swift motion and she was as naked as he was, and he pressed himself right back up against her, his cock fitting nicely in the crevice of her arse. He could care less where her shift landed.

Heaven.

He returned his right arm around her waist, and with the flat of his palm against her belly, he held her body against his. His other hand went back to her breast.

Even better.

Claire moaned. Loudly.

He replied with a moan. And they rubbed together like they were riding that horse to Edinburgh.

Enough of this rubbing, Jamie thought. He was a grown man and he was no going to be spilling his seed all over her back. He needed to love her properly and that meant getting between her legs. On her back, on on her hands and knees, which ever she preferred. He didn't care. He just needed his cock inside her, and quickly or he was going to burst like he was 14 and pleasuring himself in the corner of the barn. He needed to move her to the bed and let her decide which way they would satisfy each other.

How was he going to move them when there was no way he wanted to stop rubbing against her. If he paused, he was quite sure he would die.

He realized his hand was no longer playing with her breast. Claire was sucking the fingers of said hand. She then shifted her feet, ever so slightly, so they were almost shoulder width apart. He watched, wide eyed, as she placed his hand upon her forest, then used her hand to guide his down between her legs.

Never in his wildest dreams... had he ever thought this... would happen. Though, honestly, he was no sure what it was Claire was having him do...

When his finger softly glided over a hard spot, the size of a wee pea, Claire went rigid and gasped. Together they stroked it and the sound Claire made was one of pure ecstasy; both pleasure and pain in one. He had never heard such a noise before... but he ken he wanted her to make it again, and again and again.

Her hand was gone. His finger seemed to have a mind of its own. It slid down to the entrance of what he ken was her honeypot. Slickness. Slick and wet. He inserted his finger in and then went back to rubbing that special wee pea.

That got him a "Oh God Jamie. Don't stop."

He didn't think. He couldn't think. He just let his finger rub and Claire panted and rubbed against him in rhythm with his finger, pleading with him not to stop. Suddenly her body shuttered in his arms, she mewed and went limp.

His finger stopped moving.

He'd killed her.

Oh God. "Claire?" Jamie whispered with fear in his voice.

"Claire" he repeated now with a wee bit of panic added.

"Yes Jamie?" she responded weakly and with a verra satisfied sigh.

Thank God. He had'na killed her, she was still alive. Not moving but alive. He managed to hold her and still kick his tartan underneath them and gently lowered her to the ground. "Are ye alright lass?" he asked with much concern as he knelt beside her. She opened her glazed eyes half way, turning her head to look at him and smiled.

"Kiss me Jamie."

And he did.

She opened her mouth and Jamie opened his. Her tongue gently touched his and she spread her legs. Jamie moved, knelt between them and entered her, swiftly and none too gently.

He roared.

Claire did no seem to mind, rather, she smiled. God, she was slick. He took her, rode her hard and fast and by the end Jamie was crying her name... "Claire... Claaairrrre... Claaaairrrreeee... and sighed as he released. Jamie's arms shook as they held him above her while they kissed.

"I never ken it could be like that, Claire" Jamie whispered.

"Friends talked about it but I don't think I ever really believed them. One said it was like fireworks. And it is. Let me sleep just a little while and we can try again, if you'd like." She smiled.

"I've seen Fireworks in France. King Louis' Court. They would light them in honor of his birthday every year you see."

"You were invited to King Louis' Birthday Celebration, Jamie?"

"No. You did not have to be at the Palace to see the fireworks. You could see them from the Université." Jamie said and laughed. "I felt as if I were exploding. Twice. Once when you released and then again when I did." He kissed her forehead and rolled off her. He reached over and grabbed the blanket on the floor by the chair and covered them with it. He pulled Claire into his arms and she nestled into his chest. "When we do it again, I'd like us to explode together." He said.

Claire giggle and said, "I'd like that too Jamie."

Both were asleep instantly.

At first she thought it was a lovely dream she was having. She was in bed. Lallybroch. She could tell because of the bed. Naked. Ah, and Jamie. Kissing her. All over.

First her face -

He kissed her eyes.

"Left eyelid" Claire said. Then "Right eyelid."

He kissed her nose.

"Nasus" Claire said. "That's Latin for nose."

"I ken" he said.

He kissed her mouth.

"Lips" Claire said and sighed. "Again please"

And he obliged her.

He kissed her chin.

"Mentum" Claire said. "That's Latin for.."

"Chin. I ken." He laughed. Then he bit the tip of her chin gently.

She giggled.

He kissed down her throat. Four times.

"Faucium" She said with the first kiss.

"Duo" with the second.

"Tribus" with the third.

"Quattuor" with the fourth.

"Verra good Sassenach" and he kissed the depression at the base of her throat.

"Hum, I don't have a word for that spot." She said. "Except nice."

"Basis et Faucium, will work, no?" and he licked it before moving on. _Base of throat_

He made a slight detour to the left as he kissed the entire length of the clavicle and back then the repeat of the detour except to the right and then back.

"Iugulum. Primus reliquit, tum iustum" She said slowly because she was unsure. _Clavicle. First left, then right_

He kissed her breast bone. Once.

"Oh shit." she said.

"No, Sassenach. Not shite. Try again" He laughed.

"Um" she sighed. "Ad iugulum contendens?" she questioned.

He kissed her lips in reward then kissed her left breast.

"Ah, your favorite body part of mine, I believe. Lets see... Reliquit pectus and please administer equal attention to the adhibetn, if you would be so kind." _left breast / nipple_

Which he was only too happy to suckle. Then moved his attentions to the right side. He paid homage to both breast and nipple there as well.

"Tum pectus et adhibetn" She said. "Thank you very much." _right breast and nipple_

"Gratias tibi valde" He translated and then added "Grata sunt tibi valde." _thank you very much / you are very welcome._

He continued his ministrations with another kiss to her breastbone.

"Too easy. It's a repeat. Ad iugulum contendens" She said and ran her fingers though his hair. "Te amo Jamie. In perpetuum." she added. _I love you, Jamie. Forever._

He lifted his head, smiled at her and kissed her bellybutton.

"Oh. Alright I'm guessing on this one." She said. "Venter ipsum."

"Did ye mean to say _Belly_ and _Button,_ Sassenach?" He asked.

"Etaim" she replied. _Yes_

"Is that what ye call it then?" He asked.

"Yes," she said.

" 'tis _imleag_ in Gàidhlig" He said. He placed a kiss on her stomach just below her bellybutton.

"That would be ventri uel matricis" Claire said with certainty. _Stomach or Uterus_

"I ken ventri but not matricis, Sassenach." Jamie said as he kissed her stomach again.

"The stomach is where your food is digested. The uterus is where a woman carries the fetus... or baby... or bairn until it is born. Two very different, seperate organs." She explained to him.

"So, I would no have such an organ then?" He asked.

"Well, most likely not. There have been some very special cases where men have had such a thing. There have been cases where women have had testicles as well. Sorry, balls as well."

Jamie looked up at her and laughed. "Now you are just trying to make me laugh. No man can bare a child, Sassenach and no woman has bàlaichean. _Balls_

"I'm serious Jamie. It's true. Not many. It is very abnormal. Unlikely. But there have been recorded cases. Honesty in all things. Remember?"

"Spread your legs, woman." He demanded.

She laughed. "Not me Jamie. I swear to you. I don't have testicles..."

And she laughed as he pushed her legs apart to check.

"Good" He said. And kissed her inner thighs.

She sighed as he placed a kiss on the very sensitive skin on the inner part of her thigh, very close to her vaginal opening. "Oh Jamie" she cooed "That's very nice. Primus femur interiorem."

He swiftly placed one on the right.

"Tuuummm femmmur Innnter...iorem" she struggled to voice. She hoped he would finish his fun soon. She could think of other pleasurable things they could be doing right now... She was certainly ready to entertain them.

Jamie had been thinking the same thing. He had reached is goal. His tongue darted out as he spread her legs wider and Claire stopped translating and began to moan most appreciatively.

She was most definitely not dreaming.


	23. Chapter 23 - Margaret, Frank and John

Je Suis Prest – Margaret, Frank and John

Frank parked the car in the visitors area and walked toward the hospital. He straightened his jacket, giving it a quick brush across the shoulders with his hand, adjusted his tie and placed his hat on his head. He wore his fedora not straight but rather cocked to one side like one of the blokes he knew at University did. Frank felt his walk become a bit of a swagger as he did and he rather liked that feeling of _cocky_ rather than _distinguished_ that enveloped him. He only seemed to do it when he came to see Claire at the hospital. The single nurses seemed to find cocky Frank appealing and better yet, possible marriage material. In the beginning he had thought that his mild flirting might, in turn, convince Claire to take a more active interest in him as a suitor. _And_ Claire had asked him to be her escort to last years Hospital Christmas Party, which he was all too happy to oblige.

He certainly realized that was becoming less likely since the appearance of the rather large, red-headed Highlander that Claire was now, rather impulsively, hand-fasted to. Hand-fasted he reminded himself, not married. Nothing was set in stone. As of yet, no church wedding nor priest presiding over anything. He was fairly sure they'd done it in order to placate the godfather when it had become apparent to all that the two of them were having sexual intercourse. Claire wouldn't really marry the Scot, Frank told himself; he still had a chance of winning her affections if he could just keep the two of them separated. He'd marry her even if she _were_ pregnant with Fraser's child.

And there was that... Yes, Lambert had run up the hill and declared it. And Fraser had seemed quite surprised by the news. Claire would certainly have told Jamie of the child before he'd left, especially with the possibly of his never returning. But perhaps it was only a ruse to keep Fraser from traveling back to the 1700's. Fraser had endeavored to still leave even after Lambert's proclamation. The possibility of Claire being pregnant had not thwarted Fraser from putting his hand on the stone in an attempt to leave. Albeit, only after it was decided that the Godfather was to stay behind, to look after Claire and the child. That odd Master Raymond had shown up and confirmed Lambert's announcement, though since then, Claire had not even hinted that she might be in the family way. No, woman were thrilled when they found themselves with child. They practically glowed with joy and could not wait to tell their family and friends; they practically spoke of nothing else for the rest of their lives. Nonsense. Plain and simple poppy-cock. Claire was not pregnant, of that he was sure. He just needed keep them apart, or at the very least, chaperon the two of them. He in no way trusted Fraser's Godfather to do a proper job of it. Claire was safely sequestered in Inverness and Fraser was living at Lallybroch, an hour's drive by car. No way for Fraser to get to Claire and Claire was back dutifully reporting to work every day. He had made sure of that before he'd left for Edinburgh.

He smugly smiled to himself as he approached the elevator and waited. He did not have long to wait. The doors slid open and the lift attendant stepped out, her arm holding the lift door open, to admit those waiting to step in even before he had a chance to count to ten. He allowed the women to enter ahead of him then followed suit. "3rd floor please" he said as he passed the attendant and stepped to the rear, making room for others to enter, removing his hat as he turned to face the door. The elevator stopped at the 2nd floor and two fairly attractive nurses stepped in, though neither could hold a candle to Claire. The brunette smiled at him. A very wicked, flirty sort of smile. He smiled back and tipped his head slightly to her in a gesture of acknowledgment. Her smile grew and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks in return to his gentlemanly overture. His signature move never failed on working women though career gals, like Claire, never fell for it. Single nurses were always on the prowl for a husband that would provide for them and allow them the luxury of no longer having to earn a paycheck. Caring for a husband, home and family would be considered the brass ring for them. They more than likely chose to work in a hospital in the hopes of landing a wealthy doctor for a husband he supposed. Why else would anyone choose to be a nurse of all things. Teachers or Librarians as a woman's choice of profession, he understood. Quiet, clean, work environments. Safe. Both offered goals of helping to educate children, mold their young minds. A straight 9 to 5 job with a scheduled full hour for lunch. Countless conversations with Claire had never helped him grasp why anyone would want to run around waiting on those sick or injured miserable people all day. Claire almost never took a full lunch, hardly ever off work on time... always some emergency or another. No paycheck would be worth it in his opinion.

Reaching the third floor, the silver doors of the Otis Elevator opened. The attendant stepped out and held the door, once again, for him to exit. "Excuse me, please" Frank said as he pressed passed the two nurses that blocked his way. Both gave him a not so subtle look over then turned to each other smiling wistfully as he exited. Once through the door, he turned back and smiled, dipping his head as a courtesy, nodding slightly to the brunette then walked away before the doors closed. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone he told himself. He had to keep his options open, after all. He turned left. 3rd floor, west wing. Patient Recovery, long term. He approached the Nurses Station where Claire was posted and right into the presence of a woman he had not see for many years; not since before the war. Frank found himself staring into the face of the queen of career women, a sight he could have happily lived the rest of his entire life without seeing.

He cleared his throat and said "It's good to see you again Margaret. It's been awhile."

Margaret Sanger looked up and forced a smiled to her lips. _Be cordial, for Claire's sake_ she told herself. "Frank Randall. As I live and breath. How are you?"

"Fine. Fine. And you? Claire told me of your husband's passing. James was a good man. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you Frank. I'm fine." she said with a sigh. Leave it to Frank to bring up her husband's death as a conversation opener. "It's been several years now. Has it been that long since I've seen you?" She inquired with absolutely no hint of care in her tone. It had not been long enough. It could never be long enough, she thought. She could happily live the rest of her life never seeing the smug, opinionated historian again.

Nurse Sanger was not like any of the nurses Frank knew from the military. He truly did not much care for her and was almost glad when Claire had been assigned to a unit in France during the war, away from the influence of this woman. Sanger had gone into the nursing field for a totally different reason than most. Not to heal or help, but to education. Educate women, more specifically. In a specialized field he did not approve of – "Birth Control". That was what Sanger was all about, how many "unwanted babies could she help prevent". _Unwanted Babies_ , like there could ever be such a thing. That was a woman's job, what they were born to be - _mothers_... taking care of the home – their husband and raising the children. It was fine if they worked until they married, but a woman with a career was just an _unmarried spinster_ , nothing more. They had heated conversations over drinks about it; arguing late into the night when they infrequently ran into each other at parties. Animated discussions on the pros and cons, the validity of the right to choose, giving women the "freedom" of choice. He was sorry to see Claire had found her way back into the sphere of the " _sex_ education activist". Hopefully Claire was not involved in preaching Sanger's gospel. He would have to speak to her about it.

"What have you been up to? Open any more of those Planned Parenthood Clinics you have such hopes for?" He asked simply to irritate, needle her. Knowing full well she probably had but hoped she hadn't. Her cause was popular and gaining followers. He shook his head in disgust. Progressive woman. Next thing you know they would be wearing pants in public.

"Oh you know me, _never give up_ is my motto. I count my blessings that I have friends like Claire to share the dream with" and she winked at him just to get under his skin. They played this snarky game with each other every time they met and she did not feel one smidgen bad about it. Frank was the epitome of a sexist and would surely let Claire know that he had seen her. He wouldn't be nice about it either, probably give her an earful. "She makes my job easy, keeps me focused on the end goal. Every woman has the right to birth control and to choice Frank. Better get used to the idea." Margaret smiled as she needled the man back and gave Randall the once over. He was such a stuffed shirt. It made her shutter at what came out of the man's mouth. It was the same venom that more than 80% of the male population believed – Woman Should Be Barefoot and Pregnant. He, like most men, wanted his women pretty and smart but they needed to understand that the man was in charge – of everything. The husband had the bank account, home and car solely in their name and took care of All the finances and purchases. A married, working woman was not even handed her own paycheck; it was given straight to their husband. Most women probably never saw a penny of it. Such supression. Neanderthals.

Frank acted like he had a pole up his ass too. So typically military. Always impeccably dressed, not snappy or stylish but good quality, always neat as a pin, even his shoes were shined. Never a hair out of place. She always thought she had to defend her beliefs when she talked to Frank, like he had an ax to grind with her. Perhaps he was just putting on a show, for Claire, trying to prove how smart he was to her, how informed and all knowing. If he wasn't trying to get under her skin about "her cause" as he put it, then all he ever wanted to talk about was _his work_ , his _research_ , never listening to anything Claire had to say or had an interest in. Heaven forbid. And did the man do anything for fun? Did he not have any hobbies? Take vacations? Though what irked her most was that he never smiled, never laughed. Sanger tried to remember if she had ever seen him do either, but not even at the Hospital Christmas Party. Always so serious. She almost groaned out loud. She wondered if Claire would bring him this year. She hoped not. Honestly, she never felt like the two had anything in common. He was so stifling. Although it was obvious Frank was in love with Claire, she was certain that Claire did not return the feelings, never had. Thank God. Claire was much too good for him. She was certain Claire was meant for greater things than to be Mrs. Frank Randall... hopefully do great things in the field of patient care. Claire would be an amazing role model for any young woman fortunate enough to meet her.

Margaret Sanger had met the Scot Claire had, head over heels, fallen for. That was one tall drink of water and in possession of a smile that lit up a room. He had left Claire after that initial long weekend they'd spent together and Claire had shown up back at work a day early, heartbroken. Claire told her that he returned that very night, met up with her after she'd had gotten off of work and they had worked everything out. He was staying and she was euphoric, glowing, almost giddy. Claire had brought the man, and his godfather, in with her the very next day to meet one of the floor patients, John Murray. It was clear as day that Jamie and Claire only had eyes for each other. Good. Sanger had liked the godfather too. The two men were quite a pair, stayed most of the day visiting with the elderly man and Mr. Murray seemed quite taken with them as well. She thought that's where Claire's men were living now... on John Murray's farm, taking care of it while Mr. Murray was in the hospital. She had a cup of tea with Claire and the two Fraser men while they ate lunch in the cafeteria and thought Jamie and Claire were good together, had chemistry, complimented and balanced each other. Both men were easy, kind and had gentle spirits though she did not really understand the whole kilt thing. They were also quite progressive thinkers, allowing Claire to voice her ideas while they talked. Both men listened when she spoke, treated her like she had a brain and that her opinions mattered. The world would be much better off with more men like them, she thought.

"What? I'm sorry Frank," Margaret stated, shaking the thought from her head. "My mind was elsewhere. Would you mind repeating what you were saying?"

"I asked if you knew where I could find Claire? We are going out of town tomorrow... together, and I need to have a word with her." Frank repeated with mild irritation. That woman was hateful, he decided. Sanger had purposely ignored him. Just totally disregarded him. He needed to find Claire and get out of here. Maybe he could take her to lunch, especially since Fraser wasn't around. He smiled at the thought.

"Claire isn't here." Margaret said as a shutter ran through her body. Was that Frank's smile, she thought with horror? The sight of the man's face sent a shiver down her spine. "Claire said she was to catch the bus last night after work. That fella of hers was picking her up at the bus station in Broch Mordha. Are you sure you have your information correct, Frank?" She asked hoping she was adding a little additional salt to his wound, a wound better known as James Fraser. She smiled at Frank's facial reaction.

Frank's face contorted as he ran his fingers through his hair. He had thought she was leaving tomorrow, not last night and that they would make the trip together in his car. No quiet lunch or dinner, just the two of them either. Bloody hell. "Did she happen to leave you a phone number where I could reach her?" He asked.

"No. I didn't ask for one. There would be no need." Margaret replied. "Though John Murray might be willing to give you the farm's phone number, if you asked him for it." She offered, hoping he would leave her in peace. She thought about silently wishing Frank would just get lost on the way, and never arrive at the farm. Giving Claire a weekend, alone, with her fella. She'd have to be sure to talk to Claire about what birth control method she was using.

"Mr. Murray is in room 311. Down the hall and on the left. He should be awake and waiting for the doctor, he might even still be eating breakfast" and she pointed off to the right, indicating the direction Frank needed to travel. "Nice to see you Frank. Tell Claire we will see her Monday morning" and she turned her attention to the nurse waiting patiently to speak to her.

Frank walked down the pristine white hallway that the Sanger woman had directed him to. 305... 307... 309... finally 311. As he approached, a gentleman exited the room. He was impeccably dressed in a well tailored, black, 3 piece suit, clean, starched white shirt and black tie. The gentleman checked his pocket watch when he stopped in the hall while he waited for the middle-aged woman who entered the hall moments after him. It was a stunning timepiece; gold and intricately etched. Frank had never seen one of that quality, besides his own, and he patted his vest's watchpocket knowingly. His grandfather had presented it to him on his graduation from Cambridge and his own initials were ornately carved into the cover. The woman, now walking behind the gentleman was carrying a man's briefcase as well as a steno pad, purse, hat and gloves. They walked briskly past Frank, and both men exchanged nods as they passed.

The door to 311 was left open. Frank stopped in the doorway and glanced around the room. There, sitting up in the bed, was an older gentleman, maybe in his early to middle 70's, with short, very gray hair, wearing a horribly ugly, plaid bathrobe. It looked nothing like the plaid that either Fraser wore; this one had a great deal of very bright blue and thin lines of bright red. Whomsoever's tartan it was, it was certainly hideous. Sanger had been correct, the man was quietly chewing on a piece of toast. A breakfast of what looked like wall paste and prune juice sat on the tray table on his lap.

Frank tapped his knuckles on the door in a quiet knock. The old man, clearly startled from his thoughts, looked up. Frank smiled, one of his best, and said "Hello".

John Murray looked up and shuttered at the man that stood in the doorway. He had a verra creepy facial expression on his face. Was that how the man smiled, Murray thought to himself, and he shuttered again. The man could'n have many friends if he made faces like that with any regularity. He frowned, then took another bite of his toast. He picked up his spoon and stirred the gray glob that was suppose to be porridge. It was cold now and looked like lumpy school paste to be honest. He cringed at the thought of eating it and pushed the bowl away. He would eat his dried toast and drink the damnable prune juice. Maybe that stuttering, shy nurse would fetch him a second cup of coffee if he didn't growl at her. He knew if he scared her she'd disappear until lunch. He sighed and wished Claire were here. He was excited for her to be at Lollybroch visiting her lad, but he missed her. He certainly felt better when she was around to look in on him. He had not slept well, had woken in the middle of the night with a dull pain in his chest and his arm ached slightly this morning. What he really wanted, and needed, was to just go home and sleep in his own bed. He was quite sure that would make him feel better. With Claire at his house for the weekend, perhaps the doctor would allow him to go home, knowing the extremely capable nurse would be there to look after him. If not, she would be back on Monday and he ken Claire would come in early to tell him all about her visit. He had grown quite fond of the lass in the short amount of time he had known her. After all, they were _Clan Fraser_ and now that she had Jamie, she would truly be family. That made him smile.

He looked back up and the Englishman was still standing in the doorway. He did not need the man to speak to ken that he wanted something from him. Probably another banker with papers he needed to sign. He signed so many yesterday and then again this morning that his hand was beginning to cramp. But no, this Sassenach was not a lawyer or a banker. His clothes were all wrong and he carried no briefcase with him. The man was wearing a suit so he was a professional but it was not a banker's fine black wool. This sod was wearing rough wool trousers, shirt, tie and a sleeveless jumper with stripes. He had a herringbone brown wool jacket over his arm and hat in his hand. No, this one was here to see him for another reason. Well, let him pluck up the courage to come in and ask then. He set his spoon down and waited for the man to enter.

Frank waited another few seconds for Mr. Murray to acknowledge him verbally but the old man only gave him the stink eye and stared him down. Fine, crotchety old bugger Frank thought to himself, and strode confidently into the room. He approached the man with his hand extended in readiness for a introductory handshake and said "Hello Mr. Murray, my name is Frank Randall. I am a close, personal friend of Claire Beauchamp." and he waited for the man take his hand.

John Murray took one look at the stiff Englishman standing in front of him with his hand out and decided they weren't going to be friends. "Close personal friend of Claire's, are ye?" he mumbled to himself under his breath. The Englishman certainly did not strike him as Claire's type. Jamie was Claire's type as he unconsciously nodded his head to confirm the fact. This coigreach ( _stranger_ ) looked like one of those know-it-all's that he simply could not stand. He grumbled as he set down his toast, took a sip of the God's awful prune juice and said "Randall ye say? Friend of Claire's are ye? Then ye ken her name is now Fraser. Her be'n hand-fasted to James Fraser and all" and he watched the man's face to see just how good a friend of Claire's he was. Well, Murray decided, he would love to play cards with this Randall fella, that was for sure. The man's eyes shifted like crazy in an easy tell. However, Randall's uaigealta ( _creepy_ ) smile broadened with the comment too, like the Sassenach ken somethin'n he din'na. Murray decided he din'na like that.

"Is there something I ken do fer ye?" Murray inquired, deciding on a more direct approach, as he raised an eyebrow in question.

Frank sucked in air. It was like watching Fraser and his godfather. They both raised their eyebrow exactly the same way when they asked a question. Frank shuttered and cleared his throat. He reached for the chair by the door and dragged it over closer to the man's bed. He started to sit down when...

"Before ye sit, ken ye move this tray over to the table and bring me that wrapped package on the chair. I'd be grateful..."

Frank set his coat and hat down on the chair seat and obliged Murray. He removed the barely touched food tray from Murray's lap and placed it on the table under the window. He noted the old man watched him, carefully sizing him up. That was the story of his life, of any of his attempts at wooing Claire... none of her friends ever really liked him, did not see him as husband material for Claire at all. The big, bulking, sword welding Scot, him, everyone fell in love with instantly. The Highlander hadn't even been here three weeks and Claire, his very own Claire, has promised herself to Fraser, slept with him, might possibly even be pregnant with his child... and everyone was fine with that. Pleased as punch. Lambert alone would have disowned him if it had been he rather than Jamie. He had known Claire for ten years and had never once kissed her on the lips. Nope. This Murray was just another one riding that Fraser Band Wagon. Fraser was right now living on the man's farm, rent free. Talk about the Scot's luck! The man probably thought Jamie was doing him some huge favor. And it's was Fraser's bloody home to boot.

When Frank handed the man his leather covered object, he added, "That's quite a heavy book you have all wrapped up there. From the musty smell, I'd guess it must be very old. It wouldn't be a family bible perhaps?" Frank asked. It was an educated guess. Frank had listened with intense interest as Claire had relayed the information about Murray and his family Bible to Jamie and Murtagh while at the pub. The information had lead him to toss and turn in fitful sleep later that night. What were the odds... that this man, this John Murray was an heir of Jamie's very own sister? And still in possession of Fraser's beloved Lallybroch.

Margaret Sanger was worried about John Murray. It was his chart she'd been reviewing when Frank interrupted her thoughts. The prognosis was not good. They were releasing him, so he could return home and settle his affairs. They would probably discharge him tomorrow. He had a couple of visitors yesterday after Claire left and then again first thing this morning. Business types. Lawyers, bankers and such she thought. One had asked her to witness a signature. Yes, Mr. Murray was getting his life in order. She hoped his family knew because, thus far, none of them had come around to visit him. If not the family, then usually the vultures mentioned in the will would show up and begin circling. None so far.

Claire felt a light breeze on her face from the window Jamie had partially opened last night. Unwilling to open her eyes, loath to acknowledge that the day had begun, she stretched. Her back arched off the bed as she reached to touch the headboard with her hands and point her toes in an attempt to touch the foot board at the same time. She quietly moaned with happiness, which she was quite sure Jamie would say sounded like a purr of contentment. She could get used to this. Waking up next to Jamie every day, knowing they were together, forever. Jamie kissing her, making love to her and rubbing her soon to be swollen belly and feet as she grew heavy with their child. And then soon enough, children's laughter and the patter of tiny feet running down the hall and jumping into bed with them. She sighed as the images played in her mind and she instinctively rolled to the right in search of Jamie. She reached out her hand and found herself smoothing a bare mattress. She opened one eye to find Jamie was indeed gone. Her second eye popped open at this discovery. His place beside her was left unoccupied, not even a hint of warmth from his body remained. A sigh of sadness escaped her as she realized he must have left a while ago, probably before sunup. Having slipped from their bed, dressed and departed, without her even knowing. A whisper of sadness rolled through her as she thought of the lost moment. Of watching him dress in the dim light of the banked fire that might have been. She had missed the moment that might have been a beloved memory had she not been so lazy and selfish. She only had a few days before she would have to return to Inverness. She did not want to miss a moment of her time with Jamie.

Claire rolled over and sat up. She ran her fingers though her hair, yawned and climbed from the bed. She walked to the large, almost floor to ceiling window, opened the curtains wide and looked out. She inhaled deeply as the crisp, clean air blew in through the open window. The view took her breath away, incorporating the back of the house, the garden, barn and turrach, with it's north facing door. Past the house yard, she could see a field of purple, the heather still in bloom. There were trees, perhaps apple, with brightly colored leaves of fall – a pallet of reds, browns, yellows, oranges and maroons. To the right she could see the yard wall that separated Lallybroch from the road that led to Broch Mordha and on the far side of the road what appeared to be a smallish sort of forest. Her eyes caught movement and wandered up to watch a small flock of birds flying by in a sky of light, pale cerulean blue with puffy white cotton clouds moving swiftly across the sea of blue carried on the breeze.

The noise of the awake and active farmyard grabbed Claire's attention as she turned her gaze back to the farm. There in the paddock were three horses, the two that Jamie and Murtagh rode last night and a third, black horse, dark as midnight. Even from where she stood, she could see it was a young colt and it was making quite a ruckus - neighing, pacing and stamping his hooves with impatience, nipping at the older two if they made the mistake of crowding him. Even Claire, with very little knowledge of horses, knew the colt was not tame and clearly thought he ran the farm. At present, he was most definitely demanding to be fed.

Suddenly, there was a shrill whistle. Claire looked down and there in the pig's pen was Jamie starring up at her. A smile as big as the world on his face.

"Good Morning Jamie." Claire shouted through the open window and waved. "I'm sorry I slept so late. I'll be right down to help with the chores" and returned his smile with her own.

"Ye might want ta put some clothes on first, aye? No that the animals or I mind see'n ye naked Sassenach but Murtagh is wander'n about..."

Claire looked down and realized she was indeed nude, not a stitch of clothing on, not even a ribbon in her hair. Quite embarrassed, she took a quick step backwards and pulled the curtains completely closed as she did. Fifteen minutes later, dressed, face washed, teeth brushed, hair dealt with and the room straightened, she was out the kitchen door and walking toward the barn in search of Jamie, a mug of hot tea and an apple in hand.

She side stepped the black colt as he stretched out his neck in an attempt to bit her as she entered the barn. There she found Jamie. She stopped just inside the doorway and watched her ruggedly handsome man as he mucked a stall. His back was to her as she admired him, noticing that his hair was now long enough to be pulled back into a queue and tied hastily with a ribbon. She smiled. He was wearing the same clothes he had on when she saw him that first night in her flat's kitchen, wet to the bone, a dislocated shoulder shoulder and a gunshot wound. He had taken her breath away when he'd looked up at her with those endless blue eyes, water from his hair dripping down his face and puddling on the kitchen floor. Her breath hitched again at the sight of his kilt swinging as he work. Claire did not think there was anything more sexy than Jamie, except perhaps Jamie in his kilt. His jacket had been shucked and thrown over the stall rail, his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Claire watched silently, noting that his shoulder seemed to have healed quite nicely; his body and muscles moved and flexed in an unheard rhythm as he pitched the manure into the nearby wheel barrow. His movements were strong and smooth as he worked, sweat started to dampen his hair. He paused, leaning on the handle of the pitchfork and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve.

"I should have brought you water instead of hot tea" Claire said to announce her presence as she walked toward him, stopping at the stall entrance, next to the wheelbarrow.

Jamie turned and smiled, though not quite as large as the one her naked body had earned her minutes earlier. "And just what is that ye have on Sassenach?" he asked as his eyes swept her from head to toe.

"Oh, these are called overalls" she explained and she rubbed the apple over the bib. "I wore them all the time when I helped Lamb on his digs." She smiled sweetly as she passed him the newly polished apple and watched him take a large, hungry bite. "And theses are wellies" she declared as she raised her foot and wiggled it at him. "Very popular farm footwear. I found several pairs in the scullery off the kitchen. You might try a pair, rather than make a mess of your nice leather boots." She continued her walk along the wall of the stall until she reached his jacket. She leaned against the wood rails, allowing her elbows to rest on the garment and held out the cup of tea for him to take.

He walked over to the stall rail and set the pitchfork against the wood. He grabbed the top rail and pulled on it like he was making sure it was secure. His eyes were dancing with mischeif when he look up at her. He took a second, large bite from the apple and handed it back to her and took the cup of tea. "Well, you look verra bonnie this morning 'fer be'n dressed in a man's breeks" he said as he reached over, placed his index finger under her chin and eased her face close enough to kiss her.

"Why didn't you wake me this morning?" she asked when they parted. "I would have made you and Murtagh breakfast before you started your chores. It is the most important meal of the day, you know."

Jamie swallowed the entire cup of hot tea in one swallow. How he managed not to burn his tonsils, she'd never know. "We have no eatten yet. Only a bowl of porridge is all" he said. "I am hungry enough to eat a coo, right now."

"Speaking of... exactly where is Murtagh? I have not seen him." She took a bite of the apple and chewed while waiting for Jamie to answer.

Jamie grabbed Claire's hand, eased it toward his open, waiting mouth and took another bite of the apple, juice running down his chin as he chewed. He used his sleeve once again in lieu of a napkin.

"He said he was go'n ta check the rabbit snares he'd set up yesterday. Said if we were in luck, he catch 2 or 3 and we could have rabbit stew for our supper. Do ye ken how ta make stew Sassenach or should I show ye?

"Yes, I think I can make a stew just fine, thank you very much. I can cook, you know. I will have a look in the garden by the kitchen and see if there are any late vegetables I can add to it" and she patted his cheek. "That shirt that you are using as a substitute for a napkin is filthy by the way... a weeks worth of dirt, sweat and food I'd venture to guess. Murtagh's shirt is probably just as bad, if not worse. He sees no need for any hygiene at all as far as I can tell. Does he even know what soap is, Jamie? I can happily introduce him to a bar" and she playfully laughed. "I suppose I will have to do laundry for you while I'm here. I saw a dolly tub, posser and punch in the scullery next to the brick copper. I can use the water from the rain barrel..." she said thinking out loud. "Soap. John must have soap for laundry somewhere..."

"Well soap is the first word I ken besides laundry and shirt ye've said Sassenach, but whatever ye need, Murtagh and I will help as best we can. Jenny always said laundry was woman's work. That we were just in the way, but we can fetch water and wood and such as ye need it." He grabbed her hand from his cheek and gave it's palm a quick kiss.

"I did purchase a couple of new work shirts for you and Mutagen so you'll have something to clean to wear. I better look over what you have by way of clothes, make a list to fill in the gaps. Remind me later please."

"Aye Sassenach" and nodded his head in affirmation. "Since ye go'n in te prepare breakfast, would ye check the hen h'oose, feed 'em and gather the eggs? I have no had a chance te do that yet and there should be enough eggs for breakfast. There's a pair of wild grey geese that have settled in with them. Be careful aye? They'd as soon bite ye as be patient enough to wait fer ye ta throw the feed."

"Wild geese? In with the chickens? Really?" Claire's scrunched face expressed the perplexion she felt. "And they all get along?"

Jamie nodded his head. "The geese are great honkers too. I always ken when somethings amiss; if the farm has unwanted company like a badger or a fox. They make quite a ruckus and I have actually encouraged them to stay rather than chase them off." Do'na gather any of Jenny's eggs or she will come after ye for it."

"Jenny? Really? You named the bossy, noisy goose after your sister?" she questioned as she gave him a stare. "And I thought they only laid eggs in the Spring."

"Well, if ye had ever met Jenny, ye'd understand why I named the faidhaich gèadh after mo phiuthar. ( _Fierce goose/my sister)_ She's nesting half a dozen uighean ( _eggs_ ) in the hen h'oose and according to John's Bible, Jenny had 6 bairn so I'll ken what I'll be name'n the wee lòinichean _(hatchlings_ ) _._ Mind ye, Jenny does no wander far from the nest either. Watch 'oot. Her sassy self will come up behind ye unexpected like and honk. Ye'll drop all the hen eggs ye've gathered if ye no careful."

"Speaking from experience are you?"

Jamie just smiled and said "I may have dropped one or two the first time the damn beast honked. You wait and see how many you break, aye?"

"And Jenny's mate is around, I assume... am I to call him Ian?" Claire giggled.

"Well, ta be quite honest with ye Sassenach, the gander is quiet and watchful. He lets Jenny make all the noise and fuss which is a lot like the man I ken to have wedded my sister. Jenny had the running of Lallybroch since the day my mam died. Jenny was all of 11, so bossy was in her nature. Ian... Ian was a man of great thought before he spoke so aye, the gander is most definitely named for my bràthair. ( _brother_ ) The male also has a bit of a limp, like somethin's ailing his leg. If I can catch him, do ye think ye would take a look?"

"Of course Jamie. If you catch him, I will heal him." and she laughed. She took the empty cup from Jamie, kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose and turned to leave. She stopped and turned back.

"Oh, you said something to somebody last night about seeing them at 5. I can not remember their names. What was that all about? Are we going somewhere?"

"That would be Tomas Macvey, his wife Evie and younger brother Rabbie. They have a sizable dairy farm on the other side of Broch Mordha. They are in need of a birthing shed and some of us are going over tomorrow and Saturday to help build them one. They are coming tonight to go over the plans. I thought it would give ye a chance te meet some of the families that Murtagh and I have met. I was think'n we could give them some dinner as well. Would that be to your liking, Sassenach?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"That's fine. Lovely really. It's nice that you and Murtagh are settling in and finding the community so helpful and friendly. I would like very much to meet them." She removed the kerchief holding her hair back and retied it, pulling the loose curls back in line. "You know, that young black colt in the paddock... he thinks he is very hungry and quite upset. He is rather impatient and rude about it, biting the other two." She frowned at the thought of the two elderly horses being picked upon.

"Aye. He's unbroken, no question. He should been worked with last year but I think John's health prevented it. Donas is used to having his way, being boss. Time he learned who is master. So he'll be wait'n to be fed until he settles and understands who is in control."

"Donas?" A cousin I don't know about?"

"No. Plain truth is, the horse is the devil himself. But I will master him and he will be a handsome mount. He will be a grand horse when I am finished with him and will fetch a fair price for John when he's sold."

"Well, I wish you luck with that. I think I will put my money on the horse for now. I best stock up on bandages... for that horse is going to win several early battles, and you, my handsome, hard-headed lad are going to get bitten. A lot, I think."

Jamie threw back his head and laughed. "Do ye have so little faith in my abilities, lass? To think that a horse could best me?"

"Best you? No love, but as I said... you are going to get hurt before you win the war. Several times, I'm sure. Just don't break your arm doing it. Remember you call him _The Devil_ for a reason." And Claire spun on her heels and walked away.

"Murtagh. There you are!" Claire called out as she walked back toward the house, the clutch of chicken eggs she'd carefully collected safely tucked in a old straw hat she'd found on the bench outside the coop. She quickly scattered the rest of the feed in the yard and caught up with Jamie's godfather while he waited for her.

"Good Morning te ye Claire. You look bonnie this morning. Farm life seems te suit ye." He said with a grin on his face. "The lad looks happy te have his heart here with him too.

"His heart?" She questioned.

"Aye, for that is what ye are te the lad, ye ken. You are his heart, lass. Plain as day. I've ken him since the day his mam brought him into this world. Watched him grow from a babe to a snot nosed bairn and from that bairn into a wee laddie. His uncles turned him from a laddie to a strong lad but there the growth stopped, even the time in France did'na make a man of him. But you Claire, you have made the lad into the man I ken he would be, was meant to be. The one I see today."

"Oh Murtagh." Claire said with a softness she hardly ever spoke with. "You do say the nicest things to me sometimes" and she leaned over and gave his cheek a gentle kiss.

Murtgah blushed, though Claire could not tell. Murtagh's moustache and beard had finally started to grow back to the point that he thought he looked like his old self; like before those bastards at the hospital had shaved him. He shifted the cleaned rabbit carcasses to his other hand and took the straw hat from the lass.

Claire placed her now freed arm through his, and leaned her head against his shoulder, as they slowly wandered their way to the main house and the kitchen within.

Jamie smiled as he watched from the barn. He ken his heart was sure to burst with love and pride. The two people most precious to him in the world were friends. Watching them made his heart soar. He and Claire needed to see the priest and get things move'n. He wanted to wed her before Hogmany, wanted her liv'n here at Lallybroch with him no go'n to and fro from Inverness. He knew he needed to find something for her to do, no just take care of Murtagh, he and the 'hoose. Claire would need somethin'n more. Somethin'n hers... somethin'n that made her feel useful and part of Lallybroch, and Broch Mordh. His fingers drummed the wood of the paddock fence as he thought. So lost in thought, he did not notice Donas' approach, teeth bared, until it was too late.


	24. Chapter 24 - Clan Fraser

Je Suis Prest – Clan Fraser

Breakfast was managed. The bottomless pits as Claire laughingly referred to Murtagh and Jamie were sated. A dozen eggs, a slice of ham each, a wedge of cheese, half a round of bread and jam, some home jarred peaches she'd found in the pantry and a pot of coffee. Claire set the platter full of food on the table and had barely gotten her hand out of the way, unscathed. She sat back in her chair quietly nibbling on a piece of bread, drinking her coffee and watching the carnage with eyes wide open. She'd never seen men eat like that, not even during the war. There was such single mindedness, mixed with determination and little to no conversation. Like they had not eaten in a week. Suddenly... it all made sense to her.

"I'll be along in just a moment, Murtagh" Jamie said as he set the dirty plates on the counter next to the sink. "Let me just say goodbye to Claire" and he captured her in his arms from behind as she washed the dishes. He stepped tightly to her, trapping her between the sink and his body. His groin pressed firmly against her arse so she could feel his need.

"Aye" Murtagh grumbled. "Just do'na be all day _expressing_ your _goodbyes._ Yer just go'n te do chores no sail te Paris." Murtagh stated. "The p'ur lass will no be able to walk by nightfall at the rate you are chase'n after her. All night and all day? Be think'n 'bout Claire, Jamie. She has more to do than be bend'n over a table every time the urge fills ye. We have a full day's work te do and Claire has chores of her own, ye ken, as well as dinner te prepare. I want ma rabbit stew fer supper. I caught the damn things so I could." Murtagh closed the door, loudly, when he left.

The moment the door clicked closed, Jamie began kissing Claire's neck and slid his hands from her waist to behind the bib front of her overalls. He pulled her shirt up from it's tucked position, and to his pleasant surprise, cupped both bare breasts and began to roll her nipples. Claire dropped the dish she was scrubbing, sighed audibly and pushed back into Jamie. Her head rolling against his shoulder as he sucked and nipped at her neck.

"Jesus H..."

"Damn Jamie..."

"Oh, gods that feels so..."

And then her breath caught as his hand skimmed under the waistband of the overalls and discovered, with his long fingers, that besides no wear'n her tiny breast corset, she was no wear'n any panties either. Better still, he found she wanted him, was already prepared for him to take her. He growled in her ear. There would be no way he was leaving her unsatisfied. No matter how much Murtagh would berate him later.

"Where Claire" he demanded huskily. "I need you. Now. The table?"

She somehow managed to turn around and face him. She pressed her mouth to his and used her tongue to pry open his mouth. He moaned. Loudly. Repeatedly. She fumbled with the strap loops and freed the bib front. Jamie stepped back allowing the bib to fall away. With her shirt lifted, he sucked her entire breast into his mouth.

"Aahhhh" was all she could manage verbally as her knees gave way and she had barely enough presents of mind to grab the edge of the sink behind her to keep herself from falling to the floor.

"Floor" was the only word she could manage to croak out. Her senses were so over stimulated, she was barely coherent. She hardly had thought, let alone words.

"Naked" Jamie managed to demand before he ate her other breast.

"ooohhhh" Claire responded and fumbled for the buttons on the sides of the waist. "Fuck Jamie..." and her overalls dropped to the floor.

Jamie heard Claire's breeks hit the floor. He released her breast, turned her to face the sink and lifted her so her hips rested on it's edge, her feet dangling. Jamie's one hand pushed her forward so she was leaning over the sink full of dirty dishes which lifted her arse into the air. This presented him with quite a breathtaking sight; Claire's lovely round arse, in all its beautiful, porcelain white glory, ready for him to take.

Claire quickly grabbed for the back of the sink to brace for what she knew was coming, to prevent herself from pitching forward into the water, most probably knocking her face in the process.

With his free hand, Jamie lifted her right leg so that the knee now rested on the edge of the sink beside her hips. He had a opening and he took it. He skewered her. Fast and hard.

"Oooh"

Slam

"Jamie"

Slam

Slam Slam

"Damn Ja..."

Slam

"Claire"

Slam

"Oh God Claire"

Slam, slam, slam

Slam

Honk Honk HONK HONK HONK...

Jamie stopped moving.

"oh no. no. No. NO NO NO! please..." Claire begged.

HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!

Scrambling noise. "What the fuck is that? A Goose? They have a bloody attack Goose?" and the sound of more frantically scrambling feet.

"Watch out John. Stay in the car. I will find Jamie to come catch the fucking beast then we'll get you inside." And the front door opened. Steps were heard in the entry and then the door closed.

Jamie slipped out, carefully helped Claire get her feet under her and turned her around. "I am so sorry Mo Neighan Donn" and kissed her softly. He picked up her overalls and held them as she stepped into the legs. While she tucked in the shirt and buttoned the straps and the sides, Jamie attempted to smooth the front of his kilt.

"Claire?" came the voice from the entry.

Jamie smoothed Claire's wild hair without much success. He tucked a curl behind her ear.

"Claiiirrre? Jamie" the voice inquired loudly, again.

Jamie kissed her softly on the forehead. "Tha gaol agam ort, Mo Neighan Donn." ( _I love you_ )

"Is anyone home?" the voice fairly shouted.

"Frank" Claire said in a croaked whisper and then tried to clear her throat.

"I'm sorry Sassenach te leave ye so unsatisfied." Jamie said as he turned to find Frank.

Claire reached up and touched Jamie's shoulder. He turned back.

"Don't be" she said. "I'm not. I only wish we had not been interrupted." and she slipped her hand into his. "I love you too, Jamie."

Jamie sighed and then called out "We're in the kitchen Frank." They walked together, hand in hand, to find Frank.

Jamie helped John into a chair in the kitchen while Claire fumbled with the tea kettle to make him some tea. Frank parked his car and brought in his overnight bag, a brown bag containing the essentials Claire had purchased for John, and his Bible.

"You should have phoned ahead, so I could have had your room ready for you, John or I could have waited and traveled with you today." Claire touched a hand to his forehead. No fever but his skin was clammy and he looked exhausted. "How do you feel? Are you hungry? Shall I make you some lunch? Some soup or a soft boiled egg?" She took his wrist and felt for a pulse. Rapid. Not good, but then considering Jenny's greeting, it could hardly be unexpected. She would wait and check it in 10 minutes.

"Just the cuppa, Claire. That would be nice" and he smiled weakly at her and took his hand back. The trip with Frank had knocked the wind right out of him. Driving in that infernal sports car, with no roof and the wind wiping him in the face. He'd drink his tea then have Claire take him upstairs to his room for a bit of a lie-down. He'd be right as rain by supper.

"Toast, John? How about a nice piece of oven toast with some jam on it? Or a biscuit. I'm sure I brought some biscuits with me... let me look..." and she turned to check the pantry.

Jamie gently touched Claire's arm. Claire took one look at Jamie's face and stopped. "I just wanted..."

I ken, Claire" and he placed a hand on her cheek and stroked it softly with his thumb. "So does John. Give John his tea and let him settle. If he needs anything, he kens you are here and he will ask. Why don't you sit and have a cup with John and Frank and visit. Maybe put a wee whiskey in it for them."

John and Frank both smiled at the thought.

"A pot of tea then Claire. Why don't you use the bonnie teapot in the cabinet? The bright yellow one." He turned her around and gave her a gentle push toward the scullery. He turned and looked at John and they both nodded to each other.

Frank sat silent and watched the wordless communications going on around him.

"I'll be off te find Murtagh and finish my chores then, John. Sorry about Jenny but the goose makes a good sentry. Noth'n comes to Lallybroch that she does'na let me ken. I think she's a wee bit fond of scare'n folks too, if ye ask me." He smiled as he squeezed John's shoulder.

"Jenny is it?" John inquired looking up at Jamie.

"Yes, and Ian is around somewhere as well, though apparently he is the strong, silent back-up with a bum leg, rather than an over-protective mother warrior goose." Claire called out with a laugh.

John smiled and winked at Jamie.

"Am I missing something?" Frank chimed in.

"I'll explain over tea, Frank." Claire responded.

"I'll come in after ye've had a bit of a rest and we can go into the study and have a talk, if yer up to it." Jamie said. "I'll go over what Murtagh and I have been work'n at and show ye the books. I have a couple of ideas on how to help Lallybroch earn ye a fair bit of coin I'd like to discuss with ye as well."

Jamie started to walk away and then turned back. "John, I've arranged for Tom Macvey, his wife and brother te come for supper tonight. He's in need of a birthing shed for his coo's and the town has organized a gathering of sorts tomorrow and Saturday to aid in the building it. We are meeting over supper to go over the plans. Is that alright with ye or would ye prefer I move it te _The Lost Lamb_?"

"No, no Jamie. Do'na change anything. I'd like te hear 'bout the plans myself and I truly do'na think I'll be up for go'n out this evening so keep the dinner here. If I feel up to it, and Claire here will let me, I'd like te go and help tomorrow too. It's a wonderful thing you are do'n for Seamus and Flora's lad. Seamus has been a deagh charaid for most of my life." ( _good friend_ )

Jamie nodded and made his way to the scullery door. He whispered to Claire as he passed, gave her a chaste kiss and left to find Murtagh. Claire leaned her forehead against the cabinet door for a moment after closing it. How could she miss him already, she thought to herself. If Jamie had wanted to, he could have finished what they had started, right then and there, with John and Frank just on the other side of the wall, and she'd have happily let him. Relished it. Explode from the very touch of him. Somehow she knew that he knew it too. She pushed the image from her mind and took a deep breath. She turned to the stove with teapot in hand, to remove the whistling tea kettle from the flame.

John assured Claire that the hospital had, in fact, released him and that he had not, in fact, slipped out while Mary had been busy with another patient. Frank's timing had been perfect. Doctor Whitney had released him that morning so Frank had gone home, gathered his things, come back and picked John up and had driven straight to Lallybroch.

"Frank made good time," John commented. "Drove like a man on a mission."

Clair laughed but Frank shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair.

"So you know the Macvey family well?" Claire asked.

"Aye," John replied. "My Angus would have been a couple of years older than Tomas but Flora and ma 'Becs were the best of friends. We all grew up together. Our parents grew up together and so on. Matter of fact, my da's bull was bred to Seamus' da's heifers for years. Only the maidens, mind you. The bull, _Ferdinand,_ had a way with the ladies, ye see. He always got the job done, without hurt'n or harm'n them. Always strong, healthy calves come Spring too. The coos were always ready and will'n after that if auld Ferdinand had been their first. Funny, my mam would always make him a wreath of lavender to wear around his horns when he went court'n to the Macvey Farm. Maybe that's what did it..." John chuckled. "Funny the things ye remember..."

"They have just the two sons then?" Claire asked. "Tomas and Rabbie?"

"No, no" John said shaking his heid. "Lets see... Hugh first, then Davie, Annie, Tomas would be the middle bairn, then Jane, ah, she's a beauty she is. All the boys chase'n after her. Her da and Tomas have a hell of a time. Then Rabbie, Rabbie, mind ye, no to be confused with Mary MacNab's wee Rabbie. Though Mary's Rabbie is only 12 years of age and Rabbie Macvey must be at least 18. How many does that make Claire?"

"Six total" Frank piped in.

"Weel, they have seven total so who's miss'n. Ah, and Wee Fred brings up the rear. He's a late in life baby. He's only 10 and so Flora would be 40 when she had 'em." John said and silently looked to the floor and shook his head.

Claire knew instantly something was left unsaid concerning this Wee Fred. John would tell the tale in his own time. She would wait him out.

"Now Hugh and Davie were both killed in the war," John began again and took a sip of his tea after he poured a hefty dollop of whiskey in it. "So Tomas is in charge of Iòn Cluaran ( _Thistle Pond_ ). The day to day stuff anyway." John began. "Seamus still handles the breeding, selling the milk, cream, butter and such and Flora does the bookkeep'n, I ken. Annie, she' married and lives in Inverness. To Hugh's charid. _(friend_ ) Graham, I think the name is. He's got a good job work'n for the power company. Don't ken what he does. He survived the war because of it though. He was too important to be sent to the front. Was stationed in Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, England. Bletchley, as I understand it. Won't talk about what he did there. All hush hush. Spy stuff maybe, aye?" and he winked at Frank.

Frank shuttered. He knew about Bletchley. He had been assigned there as well, for a short term. How the hell did Murray know it was an intelligence operation there, he wondered.

"Anyway," John continued. "Graham's mother works for the local Presbyterian Parrish. Wakefield, I think the priest's name is. Reverend Wakefield, that's it. Thistle Pond will become Tomas' responsibility eventually and I think the hope is Rabbie will help with the farm. Thomas can'na run the farm alone. I think Rabbie Macvey is in University in Inverness and comes home on weekends. He's live'n with Annie's family and study'n Animal Husbandry or some such nonsense. Do'na need school fer that. Spend time on a farm, that'll teach ye everythin ye need te ken. He's pretty wild right now. Annie's have'n a hell of a time with him. Gott'n in te some wee trouble, made some bad choices and is hang'n with a bad crowd."

"And Jane?" Claire inquired. "Is she still on the farm as well as Fred?"

"Aye, Jane still lives at home. Fred is no quite right ye see. He's twelve years younger than Jane and eight years younger than Rabbie. Flora fell while trying to get the coos into the barn during a storm. Twisted her leg pretty bad and could'na walk. Took 'em hours to find her. She had gone into labor and give birth to Fred 'oot in the field, all alone and in the cold rain. Dr. Moss said there was noth'n she could have done. The cord wrapped around the bairn's neck, ye see, no enough air or some such. So Jane will stay. Never leave. Flora needs her too much. Such a shame, really."

"Oh, I am so sorry." Claire said.

"Don't be lass." John took her hand in his and smiled weakly. "The whole town looks after the lad. He's well loved. Got himself a shiny new blue bicycle for Nollaig, last year. ( _Christmas_ ) The whole town chipped in and bought it for him. Seamus and Flora did'na even ken. Rides it everywhere, he does. Got a bell on the handle bars and Brom _,_ his pup, rides along in the basket or at least he did. The pup might be too big for the basket now, ken. Had feet like frying pans, he did. He'll be a big 'un. Met them a couple of days before I had the chest pains, when I was in town. People say they are never parted, the two of 'em. Ye see one, ye see'm both. You'll meet him tomorrow and see for yerself. Fred'll steal yer heart, he will."

John set his cup down. "I think I'd like to go upstairs te my room now. Take a bit of a nap. Seems I'm a little tired after all. Will ye help me get settled then Claire?"

"Yes John. Absolutely." And she took his cup to the sink. She turned to Frank and said, "I might be awhile. You can take your bag up to the room you and Murtagh shared the last time you came or you can wander about. The Laird's study does have some lovely old books you could peruse. If you go outside, stay away from the paddock. There is a large, black horse that makes the goose look like an amateur. Get Jamie to show you the bite he received this morning."

John chuckled. "Jamie met ma beast has he? No surprised the yearling got the drop on him. He's a crafty one, he is. If Jamie can break him, Lallybroch will make some coin from the sell'n of him. But ye got to get near 'im, to break him and that is risk'n life and limb."

She and John left the kitchen and climbed the stairs with John still laugh'n. At the top of the stairs they turned left instead of right. John had the room on the left. The Northwest corner of the main house. The Lairds room was to the right. The southeast corner.

"Why do you stay in this room, John?" Claire asked. "It's the smallest of all the rooms."

'' 'Tis is the room I've always had. Since I was a wee bairn. Becs and I shared this room the whole time we lived here together as well. I guess I could just never change. My da and mam moved to the Lairds room after my Grandda died. My granny moved to the room across the hall, see'n as she liked to look over the farm. My William had the room that Murtagh and Frank are sleep'n in. Those were his beds too."

"How did you know which room they are in?" Claire asked.

"'Tis the only room with two beds." and he laughed at her.

The room John used was the one Jamie had said had been used for company. He and Willie had shared the room Murtagh, and now Frank, slept in. If he had ever received his pardon and returned to Lallybroch, he would have moved into the Laird's room, he'd thought. Jenny's room had been the the other room with the southern exposure. Claire opened the door. It was little stuffy, so she opened the windows a bit, to let in some fresh air. She'd close them before she left. The fireplace needed to be cleaned and a fire started. The sheets looked like they needed to be changed. The whole room looked like it needed a good cleaning.

Let me go downstairs and get some wood and get a fire going, while you use the loo. I'll be right back. Claire went back downstairs and out the scullery back door. There was the woodpile. She took several split logs and went back inside. She went back up the stairs and deposited them on the floor next to the fireplace. She went back downstairs and repeated the process until she had eight split logs, kindling, some newspaper, the ashcan and shovel. She scooped up as much of the ash as possible and then wadded newspaper and stuffed it up under the grate. She placed a layer of kindling and small pieces of wood then stacked 4 piece of the split wood. It was nice and dry. She reached up to make sure the flue was open then lit a match, and starting in the back, lit the paper on fire. By the time John came back from the bathroom, she'd have a good fire going. She stood up and...

"Lass, I din'na ken ye could build a fire."

Claire screamed and jumped about a mile in the air, turning around as she did, in a sort of poorly executed pirouette. There was Murtagh standing there with about 6 more split logs and kindling to boot.

"I'm sorry Lass, I thought ye heard me come'n." A red faced Murtagh said, after he cleared his throat. "Jamie saw ye carry'n firewood and we figured it was for John's room. We were no sure ye ken how to start one, so I came te help. Jamie wanted to come himself, but I ken I'd no see him again until supper, which would no be rabbit stew, because he have no let go of ye long enough fer ye te make it. And I'd really like te have the stew fer ma supper."

Claire said nothing but did manage a smile as she was still trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. It was pounding through her chest from the fright.

John walked in. "Murtagh. How good te see ye again. Yer look'n well."

"Aye, 'Tis all the clean air, now we're out'a Inverness. Glad te have ye back. Jamie says ye'll be go'n with us to help with the calf shed then."

"Aye, I hope, if ma nurse here, lets me" John said as he winked at Murtagh.

"Ye look much better than when we last saw each other. Hospital it was. How do ye feel?" Murtagh looked genuinely concerned. "Is there anythin'n I can get ye?"

"No. no. I'm fine. I just... well the man, Frank, quite honestly, his driving scare't me half te death. Speed'n someth'n fierce." John whispered. "Though I can'na complain too much. He got me here in a third of the time it normally takes me."

"John is just going to lie down for a little while" Claire told Murtagh as she closed the bedroom windows and drew the drapes. "I'm going to go downstairs to get him some water, if you wouldn't mind staying up here and talk with him for a few minutes." She went back downstairs to the kitchen and finished clearing the table and set them in the sink, which still had the breakfast dishes she had never finished. She made quick work of doing the dishes and left them to dry. She got a small pitcher from the scullery and filled it half full with water from the kitchen tap. She grabbed a glass and headed back upstairs. She tapped lightly on the half closed bedroom door and entered. She found Murtagh sitting on the edge of the bed. John was in the overstuffed chair by the fire, already asleep.

"He no sooner sat down than he was sound asleep. I was afraid I'd wake him up if I put the quilt around him." Murtagh whispered.

Claire set the pitcher and glass down on the table by the bed. She took the quilt off the bed, gave it a quick shake out the window and then draped it over John. She placed the screen in front of the fireplace. John was close to the fire and its sparks could easily reach the quilt or the carpet. No fires please, Claire said to herself.

She motioned for Murtagh to follow her out of the room.

"I'm going to change his bed sheets and try to wipe the room down. There's dust everywhere and it won't do him any good to breathe that in. Then I'll make lunch and start the stew. Will that work for you?"

"That'd be fine lass. Is there anything ye need me te do, before I head back out to the barn? Jamie and I are trying to repair some broken boards around the goat and pigs pens. Would ye like me te start a fire in the large sitting room before I go back out? It will take a while for a fire te warm a room that size." Murtagh offered. "I think that's where Jamie wants to hold our meet'n tonight."

"That would be wonderful. I would never have thought to do that, I'm just so used to central heating. Thank you." She said. "Is Frank outside with you and Jamie?"

"I have no seen Frank. Is that who brought John back to Lallybroch? I wondered. He does no look so good Claire. You sure he's alright?"

"I don't know Murtagh. John says he is. I guess we will have to take his word for it. In the mean time, I think we need to keep a careful eye on him."

"I'll see if I can'na find Frank, he can help me with the fire. Maybe after mid-meal, he can give Jamie and I our first drive'n lesson" and he turned and walked down the stairs. Claire went to the linen closet, found what she needed and made her way back to John's room.

She managed to change the sheets and wipe the room down while John slept in the chair. She closed the windows, gathered the dirty linen and placed the items to be washed on the large table by the wash tub. She needed to get lunch and the stew started then she could figure out the wash. Maybe John would be up by then and could at least explain the basics of the machine. She had never owned one. Currently she took larger items to the dry-cleaner's and hand washed the rest in the sink in her flat. While she lived with Lamb on a dig site, there were workers that were hired to do the wash and the cooking, but she had knelt in front of a wash tub or a stream a time or two in her day and cooked over an open fire as well.

Claire, once again, went out to the garden and found several few late carrots, a dozen small potatoes, an onion and two turnips and went inside. She found a large cast iron pot in the bottom of the pantry, filled it with water, placed it on the stove and lit the burner. She pulled the 4 fair sized rabbits Murtagh had caught from the fridge. Murtagh had already cleaned and gutted them so all she needed to do is cut off the heads and feet, separated the meat from bone and cube the meat into bite sized chunks. When she finished, she placed the meat back in the fridge. She placed the bones in the now boiling water and let them cook until after lunch. She found a piece of butcher paper to wrap the feet and head in and set it on the back stoop. Dare not throw anything away, least Jamie needed the feet for some good luck fob for his sporran. The heads she could bury, later, in the garden for fertilizer.

Now she needed to work up something for lunch. There were four hungry men to feed. She opened the fridge. Nothing but eggs, butter, some bacon and she smelled the pitcher, maybe milk, that was starting to sour. It could not be a full fry-up again. Alright then, she knew what she had to do. She placed another large pot of water to boil and went back outside and marched to the chicken coop. She caught two of the hens, broke both their necks and carried them to the barn. She found Jamie and Murtagh working on one of the stalls gate. Both looked startled when they saw her standing in the doorway with a dead chicken in each hand.

"Where is Lallybroch's butchering shed?" She asked.

'Tis the building on the far side of garden," Jamie answered as he stood. He walked toward her and held out his hand. "Give them te me te dress, Sassenach. I'll bring them up to the house as soon as I'm finished."

"No, thank you Jamie. I should be just fine," and she turned and walked away.

Claire knew exactly what building Jamie was referring to. She opened the door and stepped inside, intentionally leaving the door open; the one roomed building was stuffy. There was a large wooden table in the center of the room with large metal trash cans at either end and several metal pails stacked against the wall next to the door. She grabbed two empty pails and set one down on the counter next to the sink. She noticed a rope hanging from one of the rafters. She set one dead chicken on the table and tied the other so that it hung upside down from the rope. She set the other empty bucket underneath it. The far wall of the stone shed had quite a selection of knives, of various shapes and sizes as well as two axes, several saws, a scythe, a machete and a hatchet. Claire walked over and selected two knives. There was a leather strap nailed to the wall and within minutes Claire had both knives honed to her satisfaction. With the smaller knife, she carefully cut the bird's throat and allowed it to bled out. When the first bird was done, she placed it in the sink and repeated the process with the second bird. She then rinsed both chickens in the sink and set them in a clean pail.

She cleaned and dried the knife she used and then hung them both back on the wall, grabbed the bucket and headed for the door. So deep in thought, she did not see Jamie and Murtagh standing there watching her until she almost walked into Murtagh, leaning against the door jamb with Jamie standing right behind him. Both with huge smiles on their faces.

"Now just where did a lass like you learn to do that?" Murtagh asked as he tugged on his beard to keep himself from smiling too grandly. He was bust'n with pride for the lass. That she could do such a thing with nary a drop of blood on her and no be squeamish about it ta boot. His godson's choice surprised him every day with how strong and capable she was. She was truly Jamie's match. When was the lad going to let Claire to come live at Lallybroch for good. Why was he sending her back with Randall on Sunday?

"I know how to do a great many things you may not be aware of Murtagh." She said with confidence.

"Weel lass that is becoming clearer to me every day," he said as he took the pail from her hand and started back into the shed. But ye did'na finish the job. Ye need to gut them. Here" he said as he set the pail down on the table. "Let me show ye how."

Claire had followed him to the table, and when Murtagh turned to pick out a knife, Claire picked the pail back up and said firmly, "I know. I just prefer to pluck mine before I gut them. And if I set them in warm water, which I have sitting on the stove in the kitchen at this very minute, it will make plucking them much easier. Then I will gut them, quarter them and cook them for your lunch." She turned and walked through the door as Jamie quickly back out of her way to let her pass.

Murtagh looked at Jamie and raised an eyebrow.

Jamie laughed. "Are ye com'n back te work or go'n to watch?"

"No, clearly the lass has everythin'n under control. Ye ken she had the fire in John's room roaring to life when I got up there te help her. Tell me again how ye found her..." He scratched his heid as he followed Jamie back to the barn.

Claire got the chopping block, two knives and another piece of butcher paper and set them on the counter when she returned to the kitchen. The water was warm enough to submerge one of the chickens. She also added a couple of soap flakes to the water. It helped to soften the feathers, but also keep the smell down. After a minute or two, when she could pull a feather out without any effort, she removed the bird and replaced it with the other.. She also checked the stew water. It had reached a rolling boil. She turned the heat down and placed the lid on. After lunch she would start the stew.

Once the feathers were softened on the first bird, she placed it on the cutting board and place the second one in the hot water. It only took a matter of seconds to remove the majority of the feathers and set it in aside to gut. She removed the second chicken from the water and removed the majority of it's feathers as well. She then carefully removed the heads placing them on the butcher paper and the feet, which she pealed, rinsed and placed in the stew pot. She then gutted both, saving the livers, hearts and gizzards (after cleaning them) and placed the rest on the butcher paper. As with the rabbits, she wrapped the butcher paper tightly and set in on the stoop. She then carefully cleaned each bird, making sure to remove all the feathers, even the tiny pin feathers and then quartered them. She placed the backs in the boiling stew water and set the chicken quarters in a large casserole pan. She drizzled a little oil over the quarters and seasoned each, with the herbs that were still available in the garden, Rosemary, basil and thyme and added dried mustard, paprika, salt and pepper she found on the pantry shelf and a small amount of water to cover the bottom of the pan, then placed the dish in the pre-heated oven.

That should be ready in an hours she told herself. Time to work on the mashed potatoes. She carefully cleaned the cutting board and the soapy water pot. She filled it, once again with water and set it to boil. She cleaned, pealed and cut up 8 of the dozen small potatoes and placed them in the pot to cook. They would need a half an hour to cook.

Now a vegetable. Two canning jars of beans, from the looks of it, on a shelf in the pantry. She found a sauce pan and emptied both jars. They could wait until the last minute to heat.

Bread... She found flour, butter, baking powder, sugar, salt and of course the sour milk. In a large mixing bowl, she sifted the dried items together, then cut in the butter into small cubes and cut it into the flour. She then stirred in the buttermilk in until it incorporated the flour mixture. She then rolled it out on the floured counter, folded and repeated 6 times then cut the dough into biscuits using a floured glass and placed them on a baking sheet. She melted enough butter to spread over the tops of the biscuits and set them aside. She pulled out the golden brown chicken and set it on the trivet. She placed the biscuits in the oven. And turned the flame on under the beans.

She drained the water from the potatoes and added salt, pepper and butter. Using the masher, she made quick work of the potato chunks, added some of the soured milk and mixed. She transferred them to a serving bowl and placed a dinner plate over the top to keep them warm. She set the bowl on the kitchen table. She plated the chicken and green beans and set the platter on the table as well. She took the pan the chicken cooked in, added butter. When it was completed melted, she added flour and made a roux. Taking a whisk, she incorporated some milk until it was a creamy texture. She poured it into the gravy boat and added it to the table. She set 5 plates, knives, forks and spoons. She took the biscuits from the oven and moved them to a basket lined with a towel. She folded the towel over to keep things warm.

Frank poked his head in. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, please call Jamie and Murtagh in from the barn. Tell them lunch is ready. Then if you would be so good as to run upstairs and check on John. I'd like for him to come down and eat something as well."

"Certainly Claire. I'm on it." and he crossed the kitchen and left through the scullery door. Claire checked on the stew stock and found it was doing quite nicely. She added the chopped onion and the diced carrots and replaced the lid. She filled the potato water pot with clean water, adding soap flakes to it then submerged all the cooking utensils in it to soak while they ate.

She was just opening bottles of beer for everyone as Jamie and Murtagh entered along with Frank.

"I'm going to fetch John" Frank said as he crossed the room. Just as he reached to open it, John appeared. "Well, that saved me a trip."

"Looks like my timing is good," John said. Where do ye want me te sit Claire? I've already washed up."

"Where ever you normally would sit," Claire said. "We will arrange our seating around yours."

John sat on the right side of the table, closest to the fire. In the second chair. Claire sat next to him, with Jamie at the head of the table and Murtagh on his left, across from Claire. Frank sat next to Murtagh. John raised his beer and said "To Clan Fraser. May you always find a place at this table and may the Laird always sit at the head."

"What a lovely thing to say, John. Thank you" she said as she clinked his bottle with hers and kissed his cheek. She turned and smiled at Jamie and clinked his bottle along with Murtagh's at the same time. "Together, Clan Fraser." and took a sip.

The dinner went well, she supposed. Tomas, Evey and Rabbie arrived promptly at 5. Claire served cold beer to everyone and had a tray of crackers and cheese for people to snack on. She had to hold Jamie's hand several time to prevent him from eating the entire plate. She should have thought to feed Murtagh and Jamie a sandwich or two prior to dinner so they would not be quite so hungry.

It had been decided earlier that they should avoid certain topics, such of those about driving lessons as well as opinions about the war. The Macveys might be surprised to hear neither Murtagh nor Jamie could drive but would be upset to know that Jamie had not participated in the war, while being both of age and able bodied. They would have to come up with answers for those lines of questions, for at some point, someone would ask. For tonight, however, they would just focus on the Calving Shed.

Tomas brought a rough drawing of what he thought they should build and knew where he and his da had decided it should go. Jamie and Murtagh offered suggestions. A great deal of give and take went on over drinks and continued in dinner. Notations were made and the sketch was honed. John and Rabbie mostly listened and nodded heads in approval. Frank honestly did not have any information to share, and had the good sense to sit quietly and sip his beer.

Claire and Evey had short bursts of conversation at first. Claire asked about teaching, her students and the school which broke the ice and Evey became chatty for a short time. After an awkward pause, Claire then asked how she and Tomas had met. Evey was happy to speak of the courtship and wedding. She seemed more than content to answer any questions Claire had concerning herself, family or farm but asked nothing of Claire in return. Evey made it clear she had not interest in learning anything about her nor hearing any of Claire's opinions.

Exhausted from the effort, Claire excused herself and went to the kitchen to finish the dinner preparations. Evey did not offer to help. Ten minutes later Frank showed up, donned an apron and told Claire to put him to some use. Claire had set the table earlier so that was done but she had him fill the water glasses and opened the wine. He carried the tureen containing the stew and the bowl with the bread.

Claire announced dinner and everyone found their own seats. Tomas and Rabbie chose to flank Jamie, with Evey electing to sit next to her husband. John sat next to Rabbie and Murtagh next to John. Claire did not feel like she wanted to sit next to Evey and struggle through more conversation with her so she elected to sit at the other end of the table facing Jamie. Frank sat next to her. Two empty chairs separating Frank from Tomas' wife.

At first Claire tried to show an interest in what was being discussed. She had, after all, lived in rural communities throughout the world, growing up. She had some knowledge of animals and farms. Had seen first hand different construction designs and how cultures chose to raise the same animals differently, with different levels of success in all types of landscapes and climates, even different elevations. Several times she tried to interject a thought to the conversation. She flatly failed. Everyone would stop and look at her like she had three heads as she spoke. The second she finished, they all turned back to Jamie and the conversation continued as if Claire had never said a word. Claire sighed as Frank patted her hand. Finally she got up and left for the kitchen, taking the empty bread basket and her own bowl of barely touched stew with her. When she came back with the basket refilled, Rabbie reached for it, offered a piece to everyone, except Frank and set it on the table. No one even turned to acknowledge her presence, let alone thank her. She turned right around and left, going back to the kitchen. She grabbed a handful of sugar cubes and the rest of the carrots from the fridge and headed out the back door.

She stopped on the stoop and took a deep breath. And then a second one just like the Tibetan monk had taught her, all those years ago. She repeated the breathing until she felt the anger in her slip away. She rolled her shoulders, stood a little taller and walked to the paddock where the midnight black horse stared back at her with watchful dark eyes. She stopped just out of reach of the horse's teeth.

"Alright Donas. Jenny and I have reached an understanding. I give her extra feed and don't steal her eggs and she does not try to scare or bite me. You and I must find a way to reach the same accord. I will always bring you a carrot or a sugar cube if you will never bite me. Do you agree?"

Donas looked at her and stretched his neck further in an attempt bite her in response.

From her apron pocket, Claire held a carrot up so that the horse could clearly see and smell it. He turned his head and flipped his lips in an attempt to steal it from her hand. She raised her other hand and between two fingers she held a single sugar cube. Donas' interest peaked at the sugar's appearance. He leaned hard against the paddock rail as he desperately tried to gain the extra inches needed to reach her fingers. The look in his eyes told Claire if he thrust out far enough to take it, he'd lay hold of her fingertips as well and that would not end well for her hand. Such anger in such a beautiful animal. What had someone done to to the horse before John had acquired him.

Claire backed up an arms length away to which Donas snorted and stamped his hoof. "No. I want a truce. You may have the carrot, if you promise not to bite me. If you do not attempt to bite me when I feed you the carrot, I will reward you with a sugar cube. Do we have an understanding?"

Donas looked her in the eye and stamped his hoof again. He suddenly lunged against the railing. Claire almost jumped, which was exactly the response the horse was looking for. She bravely held her ground. "No Donas" and she put both items back in her pockets and turned to walk away.

The horse lunged again and stamped and snorted. He became enraged.

Claire stopped immediately and turned back around. "Oh my. That's what someone did to you? Teased you. I am so sorry Donas. I will never do that to you, I promise." She took the carrot from her pocket and held it out so that the horse could easily reach it.

The horse looked at her, then snaked his head out and grabbed it. She let it go and the horse devoured it in three quick bites.

She repeated it with three carrots. By the fifth one, Donas was taking it from her as any normal horse would, knowing she would not taunt him by pulling it away at the last second.

Now for the true test, Claire told herself. She placed five sugar cubes in the palm of her flattened hand. She closed her eyes, knowing that she would flinch if she watched the mouth full of teeth inch toward her fingers, and extended her hand to the horse's waiting mouth. First there was nothing. Then she felt the horse's breath and the whiskers of his muzzle as he smelled her hand. Suddenly the horse gently scooped the sugar off her hand with his lips. She opened her eyes when she heard him chew.

"I promise never to tease you, Donas. You have my word."

In her latent shock that the horse had not bitten her, Claire had failed to retract her extended hand. Donas placed his nuzzle against her palm in search for more sugar. Finding none, she clearly expected to be bitten but was pleasantly surprised to find the horse simply retracted his head and walked away. He even allowed the other two horses to approach without retribution. Claire gave them each a carrot and two sugar cubes, rubbed their foreheads then walked away down the path that lead to the cows and the field of lavender.

She did not come back until she saw Tomas's truck drive down the road and Jamie call her name.


	25. Chapter 25 -- Brom

Je Suis Prest – Brom

It wasn't dark but it was going to be soon. And it had started to rain. Fred sat huddled under a bush for shelter. Pat, pat, patter, pat played in his ears as the rain hit the leaves above his head. He was wet. He did'na mind rain though he liked snow better. He liked to throw balls of snow at his da's coo's. His big brother Rabbie taught him how to do it. He smiled.

The light was just disappearing. He would have to start for home soon. He was suppose to be in before dark. He did no think he could get home before the light was gone, even on his bike, pedaling as fast as he could. He fed the puppy more of his sandwich as it whimpered and wiggled inside his shirt. Puppy was as hungry as he was. They would share his food and then he would go home. Take the puppy home to Thispod and have supper.

Suddenly there was a bright light, like the sky was on fire. He hunkered down, afraid, folding himself around the puppy, protecting him. Then he counted, like Jane had taught him... One, Two, Three, Four and then a huge BOOM, reminding him of when Father Brown had fired the pistol at the clouds to start the running race at the fair. Tomas did'na win, Duncan did. He smiled again.

He needed to leave. He fed the puppy the last bit of the meat and bread then tucked him tightly into his shirt and buttoned his jacket. He started to crawl out from the bush when the Roaring began. Again. Someone was coming. The stones did not roar unless someone was visiting. He ducked back in and crouched down in the bush again. Hidden. Frog always ribbit to hide when stones screamed. Fred should only be seen at stones by frog. Danger, frog had ribbit.

"Shush, Brom. No woof. Stranger come. Must no ken we here. Shush." The puppy instantly stilled.

Fred watched the stone, the one in the middle with the crack. The door. The one people came out of. The one frog used tonight. Before the rain came. Frog brought him Brom then left. "Watch Jam fer me" frog ribbit and handed him the small ball of brown and black fur. Brom keep Fred safe and to remember to watch wuff. Wuffbed. He needed to help keep chair safe, though frog did no ribbit which chair. His da's, Fred supposed. It was the biggest. No one sat in it but his da.

He pulled the hood up over his head, pulled the string tight and tied it. Only his nose and eyes showed out the small hole that was left. He did'na like the Roar. Loud. He could'na cover his ears. He needed to hold his belly. Keep Brom safe. He would. Wuffbed. The water from the rain was running off his hood, wetting his face. Water in his eyes, he could'na see. With one hand holding the puppy, he used the other to wipe his eyes. One blink nothing. The next blink there was a big, tall man. Bigger than Mr. MacLeod, the man that came to ThisPod and cut the coo's toenails. Fred liked him. He always brought Fred a sweet and sometimes he let Fred help catch the coo's.

Suddenly the stones stopped screaming. Fred only heard the sound of the rain. No Roar only Pat, Pat, Patter, Pat. He looked up.

The Giant man walked a few steps from the stone and stopped, sniffing the air. He immediately turned and looked directly at Fred, still cowering in the bushes. Silent.

Fred stopped breathing as the man raised his face to sniffed the air again, tracking the unknown scent. His yellow, searching eyes seemed to find him in the faded light, almost as if the man could see him through the brush. Or rather, smell him. The man took a step toward Fred's hiding place, the yellow eyes never wavering from the boy's location.

Fear prevented Fred from bolting.

Suddenly a deer bounded out from behind Fred, leeping completely over the bush and coming between the man and boy. Fred's view was momentarily blocked, only the red deer could be seen. It's antlers sharp and threatening, prepared to fight. The large buck paused and smelled the air, much as the man had, as it's red furred skin rippled with the danger it sensed. The buck turned an ear to Fred, stamped it's foot in a command to stay, then, bounded away. Away from the path. Away from the road. Into the woods. The man turned and took a couple of steps, to follow the deer, when he suddenly stopped and looked back at the bush and Fred. He smelled the air once more. Fred wiped the water from his eyes and when he looked again, there was a wolf, a large black wolf snarling at him. A mouth full of menacing teeth.

"Fred?" A voice called out from the down the path. "Fred? 'Tis Father Brown and ye brother Rabbie. Are ye up here? We found ye bicycle on the side of the road. What do ye think ye are do'n up here at this hour? Come on down 'oot of this rain and we'll take ye home, lad... Fred?" He heard the noise of people making their way up the path.

The wolf turned toward the path, his lip curled, exposing a large cainine. The noise the black beast made was more than just a growl... a more foreboding noise was never made.

Fred placed his hand on the ground to steady himself. What to do? RUN. Tell Rabbie and Father Brown. Wuffbed. He wiped the water from his eyes once more, just in time to see the _wuff_ turn and leave the stone to chase after the deer. His yellow eyes did not look back. His movement made no sound.

Fred jumped up from the bush. "WUFF! Wuff, Rabbie. RUN! Fast, Father Brown." He cried as he hurried down the path right into Father Brown. "Home" he stuttered. "Thispod, mam, Jane, _pea's_." Fred pleaded as he pushed away from Father Brown and lept into his brother Rabbie's chest, burying his face in his brother's neck.

"Aye! Fred, what's up? Somethi'n scare ye? Are ye alright?" He asked as he adjusted Fred to rest at his waist and tightened his grip on his baby brother. What was he do'n all the way out here at the Fae Stones and on a night like this? Good thing his mam had called Annie, told them Fred was missing and where to look. He'd have never thought to come up here to find him. Lucky too that Father Brown was visit'n and had stayed for tea. Annie only had the one vehicle and her husband used it to drive to work every day. Without the Father's truck, they'd have had no way to get up here.

There was a sudden movement, squirming, between them. "What injured beast do ye have tucked in ye shirt now Fred? Is that why ye all the way out here? Save'n fae are ye?" and he laughed, turned and walked back down the hill to the truck. "'Tis a good thing Father Brown was here Fred, or ye'd be stuck ride'n ye bicycle home in the rain."

With one hand Rabbie lowered the trucks tailgate and set Fred down on it. He put Fred's bicycle in the back of the truck and then wrapped Fred in the blanket Father Brown handed him.

"Sack" Fred demanded as he leaned back in his brothers arms and tried to grab an old flour sack that had fallen from the bike's basket when Rabbie had placed it in the truck.

"I got it, ye squirm worm" and he grab it as he carried his brother, moving chest and all, to the truck door. Father Brown opened the door and Fred climbed into the truck cab, scrambling to the middle of the bench seat. Rabbie slipped in beside him and closed the door as Father Brown walked around to the driver's side of the truck and climbed in behind the wheel.

"Alright Fred, lets see what pur creature you've gone and rescued now, aye?" Rabbie requested. "Ye do'na have enough helpless animals at home already?"

A "Woof, woof" was heard as Fred's chest was a sudden flurry of movement.

Both Rabbie and Father Brown just stared as Fred's chest came alive. Fred just smiled. He untied the string and pushed his hood from his face. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his jacket and the puppy's face came bursting out and started to lick Fred. "Yes, Brom. Happy we safe too." he said as he petted his new friend.

"Now what in the world de ye have there, Fred?" Ask Rabbie, as he reached out to scratch the puppy's head.

"Brom. 'Tis mine frog ribbit." and Fred nodded his heid.

Rabbie laughed. "You and yer critters, Fred..."

"Frog eh?" Father Brown said as he started the truck, pulled off the shoulder and onto the road. "Ye best hope yer mam and da say he can stay then, since the frog ribbit."

Both Father Brown and Rabbie laughed.

As the truck pulled away, Fred looked passed his brother and out the window at the wuff, standing on the path watching them drive away. At his feet, Fred could see the large mound of the red buck. It's antlers not longer sharp and threatening. Fred could swear the black wuff was smiling.

"What in the world are ye doing way out here by Craig na Dun, Fred?" The Father turned and looked at Fred, worry etched on his face. " 'Tis a bad night fer ye to be so far from home. How did ye mam ken ye were all the way up here, any'hoo?"

Fred opened the brown sack he placed on the floor of the truck before climbing in. Father Brown looked and inside lay four beautiful speckled trout, all of fairly good size.

"Ye come all this way to catch fish, Fred?"

"Special for mam. Friday Fish." the boy said with an aire of angelicness.

"Well, Fred. They must be somethi'n special at that. Come all this way and it be rain'n 'n all. Guess it was divine providence I was here te visit ye sister Annie. Ye'd been half drown'd if ye tried to ride yer bicycle all the way home." and he tossled Fred's hair. "I guess I ken what The Macvey's are hav'n for their supper tonight." he said and smiled at Fred. "De ye suppose yer mam will ask me to stay as well? I sure like fish for Friday night supper too."

And Rabbie started to whistle _Sing'in in the Rain_ as the truck drove down the road toward home.

Through molten golden eyes, the black wolf watched the truck carrying the boy, drive away. It tipped his head back and let loose a _Howl. Long. Throaty. Deep._ He would take the stag back into the brush and feast. He sunk his teeth into the freshly caught buck, it quivered and kicked weakly as he dragged it away.


	26. Chapter 26 - The Calving Shed Part I

Je Suis Prest – The Calving Shed Part I

The sun was barely starting to light the new day when Jamie nudged Claire from her sleep. "Wake up Sassenach. We need to get the day started. There are chores that must be done before we leave for the Macvey's and I told Tomas last night that we would be there by 8."

Claire rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head.

Jamie laughed. "You'll never make a farmer's wife with that attitude woman" and he slapped her arse as he climbed out of bed. "Ye should already be up and my breakfast half made. I should wake to the smell of coffee and bacon."

Claire groaned from under the pillow.

Jamie folded his kilt on the floor, rolled himself up in it and belted it, bouncing to his feet when he was done. He pulled his boots on over his wool socks and started to button his waistcoat. "Come Sassenach. I'm already dressed" he pronounced as he shook her awake again.

Claire pulled the pillow away from her face and stated "No one has the right to be this perky when the sun is not even out. Seriously Jamie," and she replaced the pillow over her face once again.

"You're no a morning person, Claire? I thought for sure ye were. Ye were up and out the door, on ye way te work, before I was ever up, live'n in Inverness. Do ye no feel well then lass?"

She removed the pillow from her face again. "Happy, Mr. Perky? I'm up." She said with a smile as she struggled to sit up. "I would advise you to tone it down a notch, until I have had a cup of coffee at least. Now run along and feed the beasts and I will have breakfast ready before you are done."

Jamie leaned over the bed and gave Claire a kiss. She tasted so good, he really just wanted to crawl back into bed with her, never let her out. He sighed as he stood up, and called out "Good Morn'n te ye as well Sassenach," as he left the room.

The minute the door clicked closed, Claire fell back into the soft, warm mattress and pulled the covers over her head to replay last night's conversation over in her head.

* * *

 _She had walked all the way down the path to the pasture that held the "Highland coos" as Jamie called them. Lovely, large, friendly, red, shaggy beasts. She found them to be gentle giants. She still had a few carrots but the cows did not seem interested in them nor the sugar cubes when she offered them. They did, however seem to like to be scratched behind their ears and once they discovered her fingernails, they jockeyed for the prime position of having any part of their head or face scratched by them. They made soft mooing noises when she found a particularly itchy spot. That made her laugh._

 _She finally felt the tension ease from her neck and shoulders when she saw the lights of Tomas' truck make it's way down the road and heard Jamie call for her. It was late but she still felt unable to discuss the way that dinner had gone with anyone right now. It had been an unmitigated disaster, in her opinion. Jamie, Murtagh and sadly John as well, would certainly all see it as a roaring success, she was sure. She was not even convinced that Frank would agree with her._

" _I know very well what Frank would say to me" Claire blurted to the cow who's ear she was scratching, the one with a broken horn. In a slightly deeper tone she said… He would say "You've set your expectations much too high, Claire. What did you expect Broch Mordha to do, throw you a party? To celebrate that you" and she pointed a finger at herself, "a fairly attractive, forward thinking, modern English woman," and she turned and walked a few steps from the cows, only to have them moo and follow her, "have come to_ _their village_ _in the Heart of Scotland" and she pointed her finger in the air, "and expect them to welcome you with open arms?" Claire turned and waved a finger at the one horned cow and continued, "That this village would celebrate that an unmarried, warrior Scot, that speaks Gaelic, knows everything about farms, is charming and handsome and smart and educated" and she took a deep breath, "comes to live amongst them and the very first chance the town has to parade their eligible daughters in front of him," and she grabs the cow's face and exclaims, "he introduces his very English fiance?" She raised her head to the sky and lets go of the cow... "Tisk, tisk, tisk Claire. You know very well that Evey was sent to this supper to spy." Claire waved her hand at all of them. "Right now, at this very minute, Evey is telling the town all about me. I do not stand a chance tomorrow, my fine, furry friends. Not a chance in hell." What had she expected? Maybe not with open arms but surely an open mind..._

 _Claire hung her head, folded her arms across her chest and walked toward the fence that ran along the road. The cows followed along behind her, like she was the Pied Piper, mooing and grazing as they strolled along in the moonlight. Suddenly she stopped and turned to face her followers._

" _Well, damn it, certainly kindness, yes!" Claire told the herd. " 'Er, well no, not exactly, but I had expected to be give a chance to prove myself, damn it, Frank." She pointed her finger at the face of the cow with the broken horn and marched a dozen steps. "Sending Evey to spy, was not very nice, Frank."_

 _She turned and faced a different cow, the one with a white blaze on it's face. "I had honestly thought that might be why Evey had come tonight, John. So I could possibly develop, maybe not a friendship, but a bit of a relationship perhaps, before the big day tomorrow." She placed her forehead against the white blaze as she scratched the cow's cheeks. "Was that too much to hope for? That she might be an emissary, rather than a spy?" Claire straightened and spoke to the lovely collective of faces chewing their cud. "That maybe Evey would, dare I say it, like me, just a little and introduce me to the town tomorrow as, maybe not a friend, but not a stranger either?" She started meandering along the fence line away from the main house, the cows following along behind her like a mother duck and her ducklings out for a late night stroll._

 _Claire deepened her voice again, turned to her small herd and said, "And you, John, you would nod your head and say... No, I agree, maybe 'twas no too much to ask that they send a friend rather than a foe, Claire. But they sent Evey. She is verra sweet, educated and more modern than any of the rest of them. Maybe, I think, they sent their best ambassador, and Evey failed. No you, lass, but Evey fell a wee short, 'tis all."_

 _She turned 90° and continued her walked with the road to her back now away from the fence line. Her cattle following behind like litter of pups._

 _Suddenly Claire spun and looked at a third cow with long bangs, so long she could not see it's eyes. "What's that you say Murtagh?" and she sauntered back toward it wiggling a finger at the beast. And in her very best Scottish brogue she exclaimed, "Aye lass, I ken what ye supposed. But ye ken no to expect cautious, untraveled Highlanders to warm up to a bonnie wee lass such as yerself, now 'wood 'ye? Ye a nurse with a good job at a fancy hospital. John's told everyone ye save'd him. Ye made a fine dinner of the rabbits I caught, so now they ken that ye can cook. Ye added to the conversation several times as well, spoke of how'd ye'd lived in other countries, saw the ways others have of do'n things. Like maybe Thistle Pond or even Broch Mordha might no be do'n things right. Ye pointed out that there are different ways of do'n the same thing. So... yer a bonnie, educated healer that can cook and yer handfast te Jamie. They are mad and jealous. Plain as Day. 'Aint a damn thi'n ye ken do about it 'neither." He'd raise that bloody eyebrow at me, like he knew he'd made his point and he was right. "Tomorrow, I do'na think I'd be eaten or drink'n anything any of the ladies offered me, if I were yoo." Claire added with a laugh and scratched the cow under the chin._

 _She made a 45° turn and headed back toward Lallybroch, the cows followed, like lemming toward the cliff._

 _Claire stopped midfield, turned to the cows and spoke... "Well, there it is. I have never felt so excluded before, in my entire life; like the proverbial fifth wheel. Not a single member of Clan Fraser had my back either." She threw her hands out in a gesture of frustration. "Even Jamie,_ _ **no**_ _,_ _especially Jamie," Claire stated as she pointed a finger at the cows, "made no effort to include me or offer me any positive response when I tried to contribute. It was almost like I should not have even bothered to be there. Like I wasn't needed." Claire sighed and ambled across the field, her hands skimming the tops of the heather, and like the leader of a parade, the softly mooing band marched closely behind._

 _Claire continued to talk as she walked. "What really angered me the most, is that, well... No one listened to me, not really. Any opinions I expressed did not matter. I mean, I didn't expect anyone to be thrilled with my suggestions or make changes to existing plans because of the ideas I offered, but not one single person really cared about anything I had to say or thought I might be able to understand or contribute to the discussion - on any of the subjects raised. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ." Claire stopped and once again faced her enthralled audience. The largest of the cows approached and butted his muzzle against her hand. She held it out and the large cow licked it. She began to scratch it's nose and continued. "I have knowledge, certainly not equal to Jamie's or Tomas'... but maybe on par with you, John, or you, Murtagh, or even Rabbie... But then even Evey wasn't interested in anything I damn well said or thoughts I offered either. She did not ask me one thing about myself or my work. Why was that? I'm knowledgeable. I'm smart. I'm interesting. Damn it, I'm funny aren't I?" And the large cow mooed in reply._

" _Yes, of course, Jamie, you would agree," she said as she rubbed the large, red cow's face. "You just love me unconditionally, don't you? But you did not have my back tonight, I'm afraid."_

 _Jamie was sitting on the back stoop when Claire came up the path that led around side of the paddock from the pasture containing the Highland cows. She had been so angry about the treatment she and Frank had received tonight, that she had left the house in just her blouse, skirt, bare legs and no jacket. She was now almost freezing to death as she approached the house. Somehow Jamie had known it and handed her a mug of hot tea and wrapped her in one of his plaids. His hands rubbed her arms up and down, in an effort to create the friction needed to warm her. He seemed to sense she was in no mood to be embraced or coddled, so gathering her into his arms, adding his own body heat, was out of the question._

" _I ken you are upset. I'm sorry how the dinner went, Sassenach. Truly. I ken ye worked Serra hard to make sure thing's went well tonight too. Ye want te tell me why?"_

" _Tell you why what, Jamie? Why I'm upset? Why I'm angry? I am upset because you allowed the Macvey's to pretty much ignore Frank and I, that's why? By allowing them to snub us, treat us that way, you told them we weren't important members of this family. You basically gave them the right to do it. And do it again."_

" _No Claire. I would never allow that. They did no snub ye. I saw ye and Evey have'n a nice conversation and Frank, weel, he did no say so much..."_

" _Oh yes, clearly Evey and I are the best of friends now, that was certainly evident at the dinner table. We gaggled like a couple of geese." Claire said with a voice full of sarcasm as she tightened the Fraser plaid around her and glared at him._

 _As Jamie's eyes searched her face, she recognized that he was now re-playing the evening in his head from her perspective and that the remembrance of the events were in fact altering his perception of the evening being one of success to being an unanticipated chess match, and that he had allowed his queen, and pawn, to be cornered but not yet taken. By the look in his eyes, Claire knew her king was back and she would have his knight, rook, and quite possibly the bishop, in her corner at the birthing barn gathering. That was a start and she could live with that._

 _She went to take a sip of the tea and found it was ice cold and only half a cup. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ," she muttered as she walked up the steps and entered the kitchen. Jamie entered the house right behind her. Claire could have sworn she heard soft mooing as the door closed behind them._

* * *

Claire pulled the covers from her face, and moaned. She sat up and grumbled, as she shivered when the cold room air hit her. She stepped from the warmth of the bed and placed her foot on the cold floor. She squealed. She was terribly tempted to climb right back in and pull the covers over her head once again but Jamie was excited about this Calving Shed thing and she wanted to support his enthusiasm. She was really quite disinclined to go but knew she would have to face the town at some point; best to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, she thought. She pattered to the bathroom to take care of her personal hygiene straight away then back to the bedroom to dress and tidy the room. She was down in the kitchen pulling on her wellies less than 30 minutes behind Jamie.

She had her own chores to perform as well. She put on her jacket and stomped to the barn. She scooped the chicken feed into a pail, grabbed her egg basket and made her way to the coop. "Good Morning, Jenny. Hope you slept well" she greeted the goose as she stepped into the coop, rousted the hens and gathered the eggs. "Keep those eggs warm, it's cold today." Claire said as she placed a bit of the feed, on the edge of the shelf, where Jenny could reach it, without leaving the nest, and slipped back outside. She scattered feed around the coop and then went back to the house.

She started the porridge first since it took twenty minutes to boil the oats. Murtagh and Jamie did not consider it breakfast without a bowl each. John said he would teach her how to make bannocks but today would not be the day to try, so, since there was Jamie's schedule to keep, she would stick to what she knew. Pancakes. She did not have syrup but there was plenty of honey. There was still some ham she could slice and fry, coffee and she would cut up several apples she found in a bin in the pantry. That would have to hold them until their next meal.

She turned the oven on and, as each pancakes cooked to completion, she placed them on a platter and set the platter in the oven to keep them warm. The ham was browning nicely as Jamie and Murtagh came in.

"Will one of you check on John and Frank? I've not heard a sound from upstairs. If we are all going together in the truck, they need to get a move on."

"I'll go" Jamie said and he kissed Claire as he passed her to head upstairs.

"Let me go wash up and I'll come back te help ye lass" Murtagh said as he followed Jamie out the door.

When all four men came in, Claire had the table set and the platter of pancakes, ham and sliced apples on the table with the jar of honey and dish of butter. She poured glasses of apple cider and cups of coffee. She placed bowls of the porridge in front of Jamie, Murtagh and John. "Would you like a bowl as well Frank?"

"What?" Frank looked up from taking a pancake. "No. I'll skip the wall paste this morning, if you don't mind. There is plenty of food right here. Thank you, Claire. It smells delicious."

Jamie looked at Frank through slightly narrowed eyes, then stood and pulled the chair out for Claire to sit. "Thank ye Sassenach. Ye are get'n verra good at cook'n meals. 'Tis a feast for sure." He took her hand in his, as he sat back down, and gave it a squeeze before he reached for his spoon and inhaled his porridge.

"I thought you might like to try some fruit in it this morning so I added some pieces of apple. Did you notice?" She asked him.

"Aye, 'tis a nice change. Is there any cinnamon and sugar to sprinkle on it like ye did yesterday?"

"Oh, you liked that did you? Good to know..." and she passed him the cinnamon-sugar mixture.

The conversation consisted mostly chewing noises, grunts and please pass the..." until they all but 'licked the platter clean'.

As Murtagh passed Claire on his way to the sink with his dirty dishes, he paused and stated, "Jamie says we will be adding to your list of chores when you return to Lallybroch to live. Says yer te bring the coo's in from pasture as needed. Somethin'n about how the beasts have a wee fancy for ye and will follow ye anywhere."

Claire stopped mid-fork full. Eyes wide open with surprise. She slowly turned to look at Jamie who was scrambling to get up from the table.

"Everybody outside in ten minutes. Claire, I think ye should drive. Frank and John can ride in the cab with ye and John can give ye directions. Murtagh and I can ride in the back. Everyone needs to be 'ootside in ten minutes," and Jamie was gone in a flash.

John snorted with mirth.

Frank, for once, was in on the joke, and laughed. Out loud.

And Murtagh, he walked away with grin plastered on his face and a bit of a twinkle in his brown eyes.

* * *

Even the best laid plans can go awry, but just after 8, Jamie hopped out of the truck to open the gate that let Claire pull onto Thistle Pond property. Claire moved forward slowly allowing Jamie to hop back into the truck bed, then completed the drive up to the main house and parked beside Tomas's truck.

Jamie jumped from the bed and opened the door for Claire, helping her down from the cab of the truck. "I'll leave ye wellies, jacket and wee black box in front, if ye need te change 'oot of yer nice leather shoes, feel a bit chilly or find someone needs heal'n, aye?" He held her hand as they strode toward the main house just as Tomas and Seamus appeared from inside the barn. A beautiful building with a stone lower floor and the main barn above it, made of wood. There was a grassy sloop that led up to the open doors.

"Over here Fraser," Seamus called and waved. "We'll get organized 'oot here so we don't dirty Flora's clean house."

Jamie held his hand up, palm toward the two men, in a _wait_ gesture. "Just let me get Claire settled. I'll be right there."

"You and Murtagh go ahead, Jamie. John can introduce Frank and I." Claire said as she tucked a lock of her hair back behind her scarf. "I'll come out and see how the shed is coming along is a little while."

"Ye sure, Claire? I do'na mind." He's eyes searched her glass face. He would not fail her as he had last night. He would see her happily situated before he'd leave her this time.

"Let the lass be, Jamie. John knows these folk better than we do. Let him make the introductions. All ye'll be is a distraction to the ladies." Murtagh pushed Jamie's shoulder as he spoke. "Ye ken, if ye go into that hoose, those ladies will'na let ye 'oot until ye've eaten a second breakfast and then ye'll be so full, ye'll no be of any use to us building the shed. Ye'll be under the nearest tree, taken a nap."

John and Claire laughed.

"I've got her, Jamie. Do'na worry. Now go." John said and motioned his head toward the barn where Seamus and Tomas waited. "They'll be need'n _Himself_."

Jamie slipped a hand behind Claire's neck while he kissed her. A good, solid, I love you kind of kiss that made Claire sigh quietly, though Jamie heard it and smiled. Jamie looked her clearly in the face and said, "if ye need me, for any reason..."

"Yes, I promise, I will come find you. Thank you." she responded and she quickly kissed him again.

John winked at Jamie as he took Claire's elbow and steered her toward the main house. A pretty little one story stone cottage with a thatched roof. There was a bit of fence surrounding the house and Frank opened the gate and admitted them into the yard. There was no front porch so they walked straight to the door and John opened it without knocking.

"Flora? Ye about anywhere? 'Tis me, John. I've brought some people for ye to meet."

Claire looked back to see Jamie and Murtagh walk into the barn. Jamie glanced back briefly and smiled. She sighed and stepped in behind John as Frank brought up the rear and closed the door behind them.

"I'm in the kitchen, John. Come on in." A shout was heard coming from behind a door at the back of the room.

The room they entered was small, but an agreeable one, with a large stone fireplace and a well worn, comfortable sofa faced it. Two large padded arm chairs, covered in what was probably matching bright plaids, now faded from use and age, sat on either side of the fireplace and closer to the fire. One had a basket of mending beside it, the other had a pipe and eye glasses sitting on the small table nearby. The carpet on the floor looked to be Turkish, with a well worn, geometric pattern. It was probably a vibrant red when it was new, now well tracked, it was a brownish maroon at best. Most of the carpet pile was worn away; a thin representation of it's former self. The rug had probably rested in the same spot since the day it was brought to the house. Underneath it lay a hard wooden floor of basic browns, most likely oak. Paintings adorned the walls. Probably as ancient as the house and perhaps displaying past occupants. The walls, once white, now stained yellow from the frequently lit fires in the fireplace and the house smelled of burning peat, leaving a staleness in the air. Claire noticed a light layer of soot on the mantel as she admired the uncleaned, framed pictures that rested there.

Suddenly the door in the back burst open and a very round, happy faced woman made her presence known.

"John! I didn'a ken ye were home from hospital" she said as she wiped her hands on the large apron she was wearing. "When did ye return and why did ye no ring me right away? I would'a come by with a hot supper fer ye..." and she enveloped him in an all encompassing bear hug.

"Flora!" John replied with equal enthusiasm and returned her hug. "Home yesterday."

Flora pushed away but retained a tight grip on both shoulders. "Let me get a good look at ye then. The doctors said yer alright?" she asked as she looked him over from head to toe. "Ye've lost weight. I see I have my work cut 'oot for me, te fatten ye up. Guess that means ye'll be come'n for dinners for awhile, aye? Bring Jamie and Murtagh with ye. 'Tis as easy for Jane and I te add the three of ye to the table, maybe give Jamie and Jane a chance te get to ken each other, aye?" and she shamelessly winked at John.

That's when she noticed the two others standing sheepishly beside her fireplace, looking conspicuously out of place in her front room. Neither of them were from around here, that she ken right away. City, she would guess, by the way they were dressed. What had John brought with him? She turned and looked John in the face and ask "And just what do we have here? A couple of strays?"

Claire stepped forward as John said "This is Claire and Frank. They are staying a Lallybroch with Jamie, Murtagh and I. They'll be returning to Inverness on Sunday, to work." He smiled and took Claire's hand to pull her forward and into the direct conversation. "Claire was my nurse in hospital. She found and brought Jamie to me. I will always be grateful for that." and he squeezed Claire's hand.

"And this handsome man is ye husband, I suppose" Flora asked as she nodded at Frank.

Frank straightened his tie and approached, coming to a stop next to Claire.

"Oh, no. Frank and I are family friends. We've known each other since I was little." Claire stammered and turned a little red.

"Claire is Jamie' intended, Flora. They are handfast now and to be wed as soon as Father Brown has the banns read. Jamie's a stickler for have'n everything done in accordance with the church. He does'na want to have things muddled by a technicality. We are work'n now at getting Claire moved permanently from Inverness." John said as he smiled at Claire.

Claire blushed slightly and squeezed John's hand in appreciation.

"Jamie who? Fraser? Our Jamie Fraser?" Flora asked with confusion on her face.

"What de ye mean Jamie who? Flora! Aye, Jamie Fraser. The lad what's look'n after Lallybroch while I was in hospital. God sent he and his godfather are and Claire here," and he pulled her right next to him, "is the angel what brought them te me. I'm hope'n that Claire and Jamie will stay on after they're wedded. Help me look after the place. Maybe start a family and raise 'em on the farm. Be nice to have wee un's run'n around, aye, Flora?"

Flora looked from John to Claire to Frank then back to Claire. Studied the curly, dark haired beauty before her. She was in a bit of a shock. Since the war, there were no a lot of men, let alone able bodied ones. Jamie would be a real catch for any of the single lasses in Broch Mordha proper. She had hopes for her lovely lass Jane. They would make a great match. If she could only get them alone together in the same room, she felt sure that sparks would fly. If this English lass, already had her hooks in the tall, handsome, redheaded newcomer, as Evey had implied last night when they returned from the dinner, then she had her work cut out for her. The other ladies would be in for a bit of a shock as well. Then suddenly her face broke into a smile and she laughed. "Oh John. Ye always the joker, even when we were wee. I almost believed ye."

"I assure you, Mrs. Macvey. Jamie and I are indeed handfast. Engaged." Claire said carefully but with a straight face and a equally serious tone to her voice. No giggle or frivolity. "Certainly your sons or Evey would have said something to you, after last night's dinner."

"No. No, I ken I would remember if they said anything about Jamie being married."

"As John said, Jamie and I are handfast. Promised. We are to be married as soon as Jamie can arrange it." Claire stuttered through the explanation again.

Flora's smile disappeared instantly. "Handfast? I have no heard of that since before my granny. People now-a-day do'na do such a thing. There's no need. Father Brown is no so busy that he can'na find time to marry a couple in love. Certainly yer joke'n." She looked down at Claire's hand. There was no engagement ring. No way was this uppity Sassenach going to agree to any engagement without a fancy ring placed on her finger. She looked up at Claire and said "Engaged? Where's ye ring then, lass?" Flora's face shifted from a frown to a smile.

"Flora Macvey! Why in all my years of know'n ye, I've never ken ye te be so bold, ney, rude. Te my lovely friend Claire, te boot." John said. His face turned red and he puffed up his chest as he placed an arm around Claire's shoulder and pulled her closer. "She is betrothed to James Fraser. There is an understanding, Flora. Just get rid 'o any wild notions ye got running around in that matchmake'n heid of yers. 'Tis true love between them, I tell ye."

Flora turned red faced and looked at the floor for a moment to collect herself. When she looked back up, there was a smile on her face that barely left her mouth. Claire recognized it for the insincere offer it was. "I do apologize Claire. The community is terribly fond of Jamie, ye see, and we tend to look out fer our own, 'tis all. None of us ken he was spoken for... we just assumed the young lad to be available and what with Broch Mordha have'n several young, single _Scottish_ lasses, well, we mams were just naturally..."

"Yes," Claire said. "I see. I was hoping to..."

And the kitchen door banged open and out walked one of the prettiest women Claire had ever seen. Small and slender, maybe 5' 4", possibly 6 ½ stone, blonde hair with all the colors of a wheat field, hung past her shoulders, almost to her waist. And green eyes, the likes she'd never seen before. Beautiful. Like Emeralds.

"Mr. Murray. I thought I heard ye voice." and she gave John a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Ye look well. Are you here te help with the shed, then? Does da ken ye are here?" As she spoke she looked Claire over, very slowly, taking in every detail of her hair style and clothing. Not from around here, Jane recognized instantly. This must be the lass Evey spoke of last night when they returned. Jamie's lass.

"Hello. I'm Jane Macvey. Flora's younger daughter. Pleased te meet ye" and she extended her hand to Claire.

"Claire. Claire Beauchamp. I'm a friend of John and Jamie's financée." She took the young woman's hand in the friendship it represented. She felt Frank nudge her in the ribs as she did and quickly added, "may I introduce a family friend, Frank. Frank Randall."

"Pleased te make ye acquaintance, Mr. Randall." Jane said as she extended her hand.

Frank quickly accepted the offered hand and shook it. "The pleasure is all mine, Jane. If I might be so bold." and he smiled. "Please, call me Frank. All my friends do" and his smiled, showing a few more teeth.

Flora watched as _this Frank_ let his interest in Jane be ken. A professor at University, Evey had said. Annie's husband was an educated man, engineer. Had a good job. They had a nice house and a new car. Aye, a professor might do, even if he was English. That might do quite nicely for Jane, if Jamie were really serious about this Claire. She would wait and confer with the others when they were gathered. "Claire and Frank here are from Inverness, Jane. Claire is a nurse at the big fancy hospital there. A working girl." Flora said then paused. "Jamie and Claire are _engaged_ , so John and Claire tell us, though I see no ring on her finger. I should think a lad as fine and educated as Jamie, would want to put a ring on the finger of such a bonnie lass as Claire. Did Jamie happen to mention it te ye in any of yer talks?" and Flora's eyes went from her daughters face to the Sassenach's to see how Claire handled the news that her verra bonnie, and available, daughter had spent time, unchaperoned, in Jamie's company.

Claire's glass face held nothing back, try as she might to pretend what the woman had said did not bother her. Quite the contrary. No way did Flora not know Claire was upset with this information. Why had Jamie never mentioned this Jane to her, she now wondered?

"Mam? What are ye talk'n about? Jamie Fraser and I have never met... " Jane spoke as Flora spun her daughter around and pushed her back toward the kitchen. "Jane, ye do'na want to let your lovely bannocks burn lass. Ye ken how Jamie likes them." and she turned back to John. "She's all flustered because Jamie's here, ye ken."

Claire saw Jane turn around before she passed through the kitchen door and gave her mother a confused glance back as she disappeared on the other side of the door.

Claire smiled. She knew the meddlesome woman was lying. Of that she was sure. It was the reason behind the why she was unclear of, though she had a pretty good idea. Claire now understood that the waters she was swimming in would be full of lady sharks and their piranha daughters. On that note, she decided it would be best if she went outside for some air. As rude as she might appear, she no longer gave a damn and she removed herself from the house. As she pulled the door closed behind her, she heard Flora inquire...

"Does Bec's ken you were in hospital, John?"

* * *

Let John deal with her and Claire stepped outside just as several vehicles pulled into the yard. She was not up to anymore inspections or interrogations, nor would she go running to Jamie, her tail between her legs. Escape. She needed a quick escape. She rounded the corner of the house to discover the family garden at her feet. She decided to looked to see what the woman was growing.

Weeds. Claire smiled. The garden was quite proficiently growing weeds. No surprise since Flora was clearly more worried about marrying her grown daughter off than cleaning her house or showing civility toward guests. Why would she spend time on a garden?

Claire had no desire to deal with these new arrivals. She'd had enough unkindness for a day. Nor did she want to show Jamie she was already miserable and ready to go home, so she knelt down and began to pull weeds. The border of the garden was easy to decern so she would start at one end and see how far she got before she felt like quitting. With each weed she pulled from the ground, a little of the vexation she felt dissipated. Weed after weed, she pulled, using her fingers to dig the soil, released a little of the menace that had rooted in her heart for these people.

She had quite a collection of weeds piled when she found the onion, which she happily harvested. A couple of weeds later, she found another one. She discovered, as she weeded, she'd found the garden's planted row of them. When she weeded the next row, she found garlic living amongst the weeds. Weeding a third row, she found turnips and a fourth yielded, mostly weeds, but a few carrots. She still had more weeds than produce pulled but it spirited her heart so she continued to work. She found a few left over bean and peas, picked what she could find and pulled the dead plants along with the weeds. She found potatoes as she dug as she pulled the weeds from the next several feet of garden. A row of lettuce and one of spinach as well. Then, to her surprise, she found asparagus. The rest of the garden filled with the beautiful fern. She weeded it as best she could, not wanting to disturb the delicate roots.

* * *

When she was finished, Claire discovered she was filthy but no longer cold. She had worked up a bit of a sweat working in the horrid woman's garden. She also was pleasantly surprised to find that she was no longer angry. By the looks of the sun, most of the morning was long gone. She stood up, brushed off her knees and hands as best she could and made for the house. There was a flurry of activity in the yard. Long tables being set up and chairs scattered throughout the area. Women of various ages and sizes scurrying hurriedly about. Claire went into the house and to the door Flora and Jane had used to enter the main room and greet them. On the other side of the door, Claire found herself in a small kitchen, filled with six bustling women. In the middle of the chaos, stood Flora, busily chopping onions and Claire approached her.

"Flora," Claire started. Flora stopped her chopping and looked up. Claire saw the woman stop herself just shy of rolling her eyes at Claire's. The woman set the tip of the knife down on the table by the onions.

"Aye?"

"What can I do to help?"

"As ye can plainly see, Claire" and she waved an arm around the room, "that even if I had need of ye, which I do'na, I have no room fer ye."

"Is there something else I could do that would be of any assistance then?"

"No" she said sharply and definitively and went back to chopping.

"Surely there is something..."

Flora stopped chopping again, looked up and Claire and wiped her brow. "As I said, No. I do'na think, Sassenach, that ye could be of much help anywhere here today. Now please, get out of ma kitchen, we are on a set schedule and yoo are in the way."

But certainly Mrs. Macevy, there must be something I could do to help? I can cook, or at least chop onions, relieving you to do something else. Let me take..."

"Out please, Claire Whoever ye are. Out." and with a flourish she pointed, with her knife, at the door.

Claire looked around the room and noticed that all the others had stopped what they were doing to stare at her. She took a deep breath, turned and walked out the door, careful to not let it hit her on the ass on the way out. She'd go sit in the truck and wait until Jamie was ready to leave. She was done. She'd was through for the day. She'd sit and find a reason not to come tomorrow.

"Claire"

She heard her name as she passed the fireplace on her way to the door. She stopped and turned around. Jane. Smiling at her. Oh good, another tongue lashing by another Macevy. Well, she'd had enough of that for a day as well, possible for a life time. She turned with a hostile look on her face and said "Look, I get..."

"Please forgive my mam. She can be brutal on strangers. Especially foreigners." Jane said as she closed the gap between them.

"Oh? And since when are the English foreigners?" Claire almost snarled.

"No. I did'na mean yoo..."

"Really? Your mother treated me with _kindness_ in there moments ago? God help the people she really doesn't like, then. Pardon me if I'm not all gushy with happiness over our little chat, just now. I think I'll be leaving." And she turned to walk away.

"No. Wait, Claire." Jane said as she reached out and placed a light hand on Claire's arm. "I'm sorry for the way she is behaved. She and the other ladies are just disappointed..."

"Why? Whatever have I done to any of them?"

"Jamie Fraser, of course. They all have set their caps on him for one of their own lasses." Jane looked down at the ground as she spoke the words, embarrassed for having said them out loud. How sad and silly they sounded. That the people she grew up with and loved would treat a stranger so ill. "Because Jamie has fallen in love with yoo and no a Scottish lass from Broch Mordha, 'tis all."

" 'Tis all?" Claire repeated almost laughing. "I am to be treated so rudely simply because I have fallen in love with a Scot? Because I am English?"

"No. No because ye have fallen for Jamie, but that Jamie has fallen for yoo, is the issue. And no just **a Scot** , but Jamie Fraser. He has done some'thin amazing for my village, just in the few weeks he's been here. He's teach'n us what it 'tis te be Scots again, ye see, with the Gàidhlig lessons, the plaids and wear'n kilts... he's teaching us about pride and honor, Claire. Somethin'n we have no had for quite some time." Jane stopped and took a deep breath. She took Claire by the elbow and led her outside to the front yard and all the activity. "Ma family does no have much. None of the folks around here do. Ma family has needed this shed for years, never had the help, time nor money te build it. Yer Jamie arrived and suddenly the town is here make'n it happen fer them. This is like the gatherings my great-gran and gran used to talk about. Yer man has made it all happen. Plain and simple, Claire. He's brought what it 'tis to be Scots back te Broch Mordha, and that 'tis an amaze'n thin."

Claire looked around and realized just how many people were here, involved in making this happen for the Macveys. Jane said it was all do to Jamie's efforts. The Laird Broch Tuarach looking out for his own... if only they knew. She smiled, Her Jamie. "That doesn't excuse the hostility that has been expressed directly at me today. I understand it, but that doesn't make it alright, Jane."

"Aye. I ken. It might take them awhile to forgive ye from stealing Jamie right 'oot from under 'em. They'll come to accept it, at least once yer moved here and safely wedded. Until then I fear, yer man will still coveted, like a prize bull; considered eligible, grand husband material until mar'rit, I'm afraid. I hope ye have a heavy stick te beat the bolder ones off with." Jane giggled.

Claire snorted, then giggled as well.

"I will do what I can to help, to dissuade them. But, as is true with most Scots, we can be a wee bit stubborn when we've set our minds te somethin'n."

"Oh I have an idea." Claire smiled at Jane. A friend. Maybe she had made a friend today.

"Jane! Jane, where are ye lass. I need ye in the kitchen" was heard coming from the house.

"I've got to go, but I will try and find ye later." Jane took Claire's hand and squeezed it. "The lady there, with the black hair pulled back in a tail and the red skirt, she's Mrs. MacKesson. "Ask her if there is somethin'n ye can do to help." and Jane turned and disappeared back inside the house.

* * *

Claire made her way to Mrs. MacKesson and inquired after something she could do to help. Mrs. MacKesson pointed out Mrs. Rose who referred her to Mrs. Tierney. She in turn sent Claire to Mrs. Garrity. Mrs. Garrity said to try the kitchen. Claire sighed and gave up. She walked back to the garden to pick up the vegetables she had harvested earlier. She found a basket beside the front door of the house and placed them in it. There was a table outside on the back side of the house, perhaps to fold laundry on after it had been pulled from the line. She placed the basket on table and went back to pile the weeds she had pulled. She placed them in a corner of the newly weeded garden to allow them to decompose and then be worked into the soil in the spring. She went back around the house to braid the garlic.

When Claire turned the corner she found a small, young, brown haired boy, rooting through the vegetables, pulling out all the carrots and the few leaves of late lettuce and spinach she'd found. A beautiful brown and black puppy was trying to see what the boy was doing. He had managed to get his front paws on the table's edge but was not tall enough to see. The puppy whimpered and the boy picked it up and set it on the table top.

"Brom, ye no like carits, ken?" The boy had the most beautiful green eyes and suddenly she knew who he was.

"Hello." Claire said. "You must be Fred."

The boy looked up and smiled. "Fred Macvey I am" he said and then pointed his finger at himself. "This be Brom" and the puppy barked. "Yoo?" and he pointed his finger at Claire.

"My name?" Claire asked.

"Aye" Fred said.

"My name is Claire."

The boy smiled a largest smile Claire had ever seen and said "Chair!" then threw his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

Her initial reaction was to throw her hands up in the air but Fred was so endearing, she quickly placed her arms around him and hugged him back. Brom sat quietly on the table next to the boy and wagged his tail. "I like you too" Claire said quietly.

"Frog ribbit" Fred said when he released Claire from the hug. "Wuffbed, frog ribbit. Chair safe ribbit" and he hugged Claire again.

This time when he released her, he went back to picking through the pail in search of more carrots and lettuce. Brom barked once and wagged it's entire rear end in greeting.

"Are you going to make a salad?" Claire inquired.

"No. For pets, eat. Have hurt. Come? See, Chair" and Fred gathered the selected vegetables in a pail and grabbed Claire's hand tightly in his own.

"Yes," She said. "I'd like to see your animals. If they are hurt, perhaps I can help. I'm a nurse, you see."

Fred looked confused.

"A healer. I help make sick things well." She said and she grabbed the pail and Fred's smile grew and he pulled her toward the barn. The puppy leaped from the table and ran passed them, up the grassy ramp and into the barn. The lower level, made of stone, must have been the original barn. John had said the farm had been in Flora's family for generations. Must be where they processed the milk, made the butter, coddled cream, maybe even cheese now, Claire thought. She had not realized just how long the barn was either. There looked to be 10 milking stalls on each side, with almost enough room for two people to walk up the center and not touch a cow in a stall on either side. And clean. Fresh hay dusted the floor. The far end of the barn had another set of double doors and as they moved toward it, Fred rocked their linked hands back and forth like it was a swing. He led her all the way to the other end of the barn and when they arrived, Fred opened the door. Brom immediately darted out and turned to the right. Fred picked up a milking stool and an empty pail and they followed the brown and black furry blur out the back of the barn. Attached to the barn, just to the right, was a small covered area with an extended roof using the wall of the barn as the back shelter. It was open to the elements on the other three sides. There was a old table, with various sizes of odd crates and cages sitting on, underneath or beside it. Claire set the pail of vegetables on the table and began to look into the cages. One contained a brown hare, another a red squirrel and one under the table looked empty. There was an old wash bucket on the ground beside the table with water and a pond turtle. All looked perfectly healthy to Claire.

She had not realized Fred had left until he suddenly returned carrying a pail of water.

"They are wonderful. Are they yours?" Claire asked. Fred nodded. "They look like you are take good care of them" and she smiled at him.

Fred positioned the stool on the ground and stood on it so that the table came to his waist now. He placed the empty pail on the table and set a small amount of hay in it. Then he carefully opened his shirt and removed something from it. When he released it into the pail, Claire could see it was a small vole and it wasn't moving. He opened a jar of dirt and dug around until he came up with a worm and placed it in the pail with the vole along with a broken teacup filled with water.

"Is he alive?"

Fred nodded.

"Well then that will set him right for the night. Where did you find him?" Claire asked. "Wall" the boy said and pointed off over his shoulder. Brom was whimpering, asking to see so Fred picked him up and set him on the table.

Fred pulled the hare's cage over. "Help leg, peas" he said as he looked at Claire.

"Oh, is his leg injured?" She inquired.

Fred nodded his head. "Found trap'd" he said as he reached over and grabbed a piece of twine. "On leg. Tight." his face full of concern. "No hopping."

"He cannot hop now, because of the snare you found on his leg?"

The boy's head nodded furiously.

"Fred, do you know Mr. Murray from Lallybroch?

Fred nodded and stepped off the stool like he was going to leave to go get him for her.

"No, no." She said as she placed an hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I mean, would you recognize the truck he drives?"

Fred nodded. "Aye. Red. Beside Tom in yard."

"Yes," Claire nodded with a grin. "There should be a small, black lunch box on the seat. Would you fetch it for me? It will have some items in it I might..." and before she could finish the sentence with the word "need" Fred was off, Brom leapt off the table and followed in hot pursuit.

Fred was back before she could fix her hair, so she placed the scarf in the pocket of her skirt. Fred placed the metal lunch box on the table, picked Brom up and climbed up on his stool. As Fred looked at Claire with great expectations, Brom scrambled out of his arms onto the table and sat, patiently waiting.

"Alright then," Claire said as she started rifling though the barn shaped box, checking her supplies. She had started carrying the box out of necessity. No matter where she went, there was always someone in need of simple medical attention. So rather than hope that the person had what she needed, she simply started carrying basic first aid supplies. That early beginning, had swiftly developed into the proverbial _little black medical bag_ since meeting Jamie and Murtagh. "I'll need you to hold the hare tightly, Fred, so I can get a look at his leg. Watch the claws on his feet, I don't want you to get hurt in the process."

Fred looked and her and nodded.

Brom barked and wagged his talk.

Claire nodded in return. "Good. Lets get started."

Fred opened the cage and grabbed the hare by the ears and lifted him out. It squirmed but was no match for Fred, with only one working back leg. The bad food just hung, useless. Fred folded his free arm around the hare and hugged him to his chest and used the hand holding his ears and his chin to hold the head and cover the eyes. The hare calmed slightly, unable to see, but it's nose was working overtime, sniffing the air for possible dangers.

Claire pushed the cage off to the side a bit, to make room for her to work. She gently took the limp appendage in her fingers and the hare kicked it's good foot, wrestling a bit but Fred had a good grip on him. She could see where the snare had entangled the leg just above the foot but below the hock. The fur missing, the leg swollen, tissue torn, and the wound was dirty. From the feel, there were no broken bones. It looked as if the poor creature had struggled in an attempt to free itself and had definitely stressed the tendons.

"The leg isn't broken, which is good" she said to Fred. "I will need to clean the wound, then bandage it. He should be fine in a few days. Claire cleaned it as carefully as she could though the hare struggle when she placed the Merthiolate on the wound.

Fred said "Stop. Hurt hare."

"Yes, I know, but it needed to be disinfected, kill the germs. It will help the wound to heal." She tried to tell him. She wrapped the wound with a clean bandage. She'd have to hope the hare did not try to chew through it. "Done" she announces and ran her hand down the hare's back. The fur was so soft. She twisted the ends together between her finger and thumb. "Guess you should put him back in the cage and feed him and she pushed the cage toward Fred.

He lowered the hare into the cage but had to push Brom's head out of the way as he shut the lid. "No Brom. Scare hare."

Claire said "If I come back tomorrow, I can check on him again, see how the injury is doing and if the bandage needs to be changed but I'll be leaving on Sunday. You'll have to find someone else to help you after that. Your sister Jane perhaps?"

Fred smiled at the news the hare would be alright but grabbed Claire's arm and said "Stay!" when she mentioned her leaving.

Claire's eyes soften. "I have to leave for now, to return to work. Not far, only to Inverness. The hospital, near Annie. But I will be back Fred, I promise."

Brom turned and immediately started to growl.

Both Claire and Fred turned to see what was upsetting Brom. From the far side of the barn, a man was leaning against the barn wall, watching them. Tall, Claire noticed, immediately. He was tall. Six feet for sure, but not quite as tall as Jamie. Weighed more than Jamie though from the looks of it. Big boned and muscular. This guy tipped in at 14 stone for sure. Dark, black hair, like ink and long, past his shoulders. But it was the eyes that stopped her, almost scared the breath right out of her, yellow, almost molten golden; she'd never seen iris' that color. She could feel an ancient haunted sole behind them.


	27. Chapter 27 -- The Calving Shed Part II

Je Suis Prest – The Calving Shed Part II

Jamie took a drink from the ladle in one of the water buckets and straightened his back as he stretched. He set the sledgehammer he'd be using for the last several hours on the wall he was leaning against and looked around. The Macveys had many good friends. There had to be more than 20 men all working together to make this Calving Shed become real for them. He din'na think he ken half of them, but that was of no concern. He would ken them all by name afore St. Nicholas, as most were from Broch Mordha, and those with new faces he would make a point of learn'n quickly. Some were from other towns, shoppes or farms Seamus did business with so those would be a bit harder to learn, but he had a good mind for names and faces, always had. They would be important friends and allies for Lallybroch as well. John was to introduce him to William MacDonald, at some point today. He was the _President_ of the Scottish Highlander Society and was sure to make an appearance. An event like this was too important for the man to miss. Jamie wanted verra much to meet with him.

It had been decided to build the shed using an existing foundation and walls from an old, _dilapidated_ cottage that was already situated on Thistle Pond land. As luck would have it, the old cottage sat inside one of the smaller pastures that was situated close to the family home, so when the birthing time for one of the cow's became close, Tomas could place the animal in the smaller fenced area to keep a close watch on them. After the birth, when the calves were strong enough to venture outside the shed, they could roam the small pasture in safety, while building their strength. The farm had lost several calves last spring to predators; for a small farm like Thistle Pond, it was devastating to loose a single one.

It took them the better part of two hours and several sledgehammers for the inside to be gutted, but it was done. The plan was to have four separate birthing stalls. One for each corner. There were to be storage cupboards between each of the stalls as well. Each stall was to have it's own window, to bring in light and fresh air. The window framing was already in place, utilizing the existing cottage windows, they just needed to replace the glass and that would be taken care of tomorrow. Seamus said that Ewan Grant had offered to take care of the window glass. He and his twin brother Aiden owned the local hardware store in town. Both batchelors and John said to be in their mid 60's. They looked nothing alike. Ewan was tall and thin, Aiden was short and stout. They were knowledgeable and interesting to talk to; they finished each others sentences and told bawdy jokes. Murtagh and Jamie agreed to meet them for beers some night at the Lost Lamb.

Several men were in the process of enlarging what had been the cottage's front entrance into a large double door. They were using the lumber from the inside of the house to fashion the new doors. They would re-use the cottage's front door by hanging it, on one of the storage closets inside. They would use the rear door for the same purpose. They were salvaging everything they possibly could to save the Macevy's from spending their hard earned coin. Nothing would go to waste. Tomas's plan was coming true.

Jamie had been helping with the _demolition_ of the interior. He rather liked knock'n the walls down. Matter of fact he rather liked the sledgehammer itself. Swinging it like it was an ax had felt natural and easy to him. One of the men had told him he split wood with a wedge and a sledgehammer; Jamie needed to inquire if Lallybroch had one, for surely John would have such a fine tool. The work was hard but satisfying; he enjoyed the physicalness of the labor and he was getting to ken some of the men from the area. There were so many tools, some new and some just adapted from the ones he and Murtagh were used to. Some Lallybroch had, wheelbarrow, metal shovel, metal hammer with a claw. He liked the _screw drivers_ and _wood screws_ as well. All verra cleverly crafted. He was trying to watch and learn all the names and uses. This was a grand time that Claire lived in and now it was his and Murtagh's home as well.

There were several men Jamie was working along side. All large, strong, capable men. Connor and Duncan MacLeod, father and son, were the town's blacksmiths. The father, Connor, was about Murtagh's height, with fiery, red hair and no neck; he looked as if his heid sat directly on top of his shoulders. Arms as big as his upper legs and strong too. Picked up support beams like the were sacks of flour. The son was exactly the same, just a few inches taller, almost matching bookends. They had made all the new barn door hinges, handles and other hardware needed, brought it all with them. Jamie had spent several minutes admiring their handiwork. Connor had invited Jamie and Mutagh to come by the shoppe and to have a look at their set up.

There was another set of brothers, from a nearby goat farm, helping inside. Chal and Beval Keir. Chal was the younger of the two, a year or two older than Tomas' brother Rabbie; right about Jamie's age and seemed to really take a liking to Murtagh. He was slight of build, brown hair, brown eyes and his tongue never stopped wagging. "He talked almost the entire morn'n. I don'na think he even stopped to breathe" Murtagh would comment later on the ride back to Lallybroch. The brother, Beval, was older and hardly spoke two sentences together. He was maybe older by ten years and Jamie had noted a hint of a French accent. Dark shoulder length hair and eyes that had reminded him of Claire's but with more yellow. Her's were like looking at a fine whiskey, he could get lost in them, and frequently had. The six of them, the two Keirs, the MacLeods and the Frasers had been working on shirring up the support timbers, when they all declared, at the same time, that they needed a wee break and some water.

"That roof will last another 100 years without collapsing," Chal said and his brother slapped him on the back, knocking him several feet forward.

"Is that what you say, Chal? Are you a master roofer now?" and Beval smiled at him.

Chal turned red, looked at the ground then back up to his brother's face with admiration. "Well, no, but I suppose I could be some day. I think it would be a handy thing to be able to do, don't you?" and he pushed his brother's shoulder. "I think it would be good if I could give our cottage a new roof. It leaked in two spots last heavy rain we had. Ma had to put pans on the floor to catch the drips."

"Well, maybe we can talk our new friends, the Frasers here, into helping us." Beval replied as he placed his younger brother in a choke hold and tosseled his hair. "The four of us could get it done in no time." Beval looked to Jamie as he spoke.

"Aye," Murtagh said with a nod. "We're no experts but we'd be glad to help ye patch a few holes, if ye ken what ye are do'n. Jamie and I are more familiar with thatched roofs, no these fancy wood shakes or slate tiles."

"Well, Tomas said he'll be putt'n a wood shingle roof up, so after tomorrow, we might all be able to make a living at it." Chal added and laughed.

"Jamie, are ye listen'n lad?" Murtagh asked and followed Jamie's line of sight. There was Claire, hand in hand with a young lad walk'n toward the barn. The big red knuckleheid was watch'n with a stupid grin on his face. Had'na heard a word they had been say'n either. The lad had it bad for the lass the was sure enough.

Beval and Chal turned to see what had caught Jamie Fraser's eye.

"Got a bit of a crush on her has he?" Chal asked Murtagh as he poke him in the side with his elbow. "He's got it bad. Look at the Lovey Dovey gaze on his face. Geeze." He turned to Jamie and said "Just go talk to her, Jamie. You can never go wrong with a Hello."

Jamie looked at Chal and smiled then back in time to see Claire and the lad disappear into the barn. He shook the fog from his head. "I'm sorry. What did I miss?"

"Boy, do you have it bad for the woman" Chal repeated and smiled. "I thought I knew all the local lasses but I guess I missed that one. Or maybe she's just visiting. I'll go find Rabbie Macvey, see if I can get you a name to go with the pretty face." and off he went in search of his friend.

Beval watched them enter the barn. He did not know the woman, but he recognized the boy... and he smiled as his eyes brightened. He gently sniffed the air. The dog was somewhere nearby as well...

"Jamie," Frank said as he approached.

Murtagh turned. Claire and the little lad had disappeared into the barn. No longer in site. "Randall. Sick of woman's work, are ye? Finally come te help the men?"

"What?" Frank said turning to Murtagh. "No. I came to tell Jamie I can not find Claire. Anywhere, though the Macvey's garden is suspiciously well weeded... Things did not go smoothly with the ladies this morning you see."

Jamie turned to look at Frank at the mention of Claire's name. "What do ye ken Frank? What happened this morn? I thought John said yoo two would look after Claire? Now ye tell me ye can'na find her?" His eyes glared at Frank. "How long was she miss'n? Do ye ken who the wee lad she went into the barn with is, at least?"

Beval could not believe his ears... Frank Randall was standing right in front of him.

 _The wolf had watched the truck, carrying the boy, drive away. His desire had been too strong. Travel through the stones always made him hungry and the sudden appearance of the large stag was too great a temptation, too easy a meal. It was almost as if the large bull had let himself be seen in order to lead him away from the boy. No, the wolf shook his head and rain drops flew from his fur in all directions. That was silly... all that he had seen and done in his long life gave him cause to ponder the possibility. Perhaps the Fairy's had protected the boy, kept him from harm because of his innocence. The locals did, after all, call it Fae Hill..._

 _Just as well. Melisande had given explicit instructions. Find La femme (the woman) and report back. Nothing more. Start in Inverness. Claire, femme (wife) of Frank Randall. She should have come through the Stones on Samhain 1946. Trouve la simplement (just find her). He gathered she was of great importance to the sorcière (witch). That she should have arrived at Craig na dun in 1742 and didn't. The Comte lui avait ordonné d'aller (The Comte de St. Germain had ordered him to go). To do Melisande's bidding. He'd worked for his friend Paul Rakocsy for years. Never known him to allow a woman to give him orders or make demands. The fool was bewitched by the redheaded, manipulative sorcière. Granted she was beautiful, but hardly worth loosing ones head over. This relationship would come back to bite his friend. La sorcière avait l'odeur de la mort partout dans sa (that witch had the smell of death all over her). Il pouvait à peine être dans la même pièce avec elle (he could barely stand to be in the same room with her)._

 _The wolf tipped his head back and let loose a Howl. Long. Throaty. Deep. He would take the deer back into the brush and eat one of the haunches. He would save the other to take home to his mother and brother. Yes, another reason he agreed to Rakocsy's request. His family was safely ensconced here; a small farm near Broch Mordha. They lived off the land, like they had always done. Raised goats and sheep mostly. A few chickens and a small garden. For their own consumption mostly. No one ever bothered them. Plus he could hunt in wolf form, if he was careful and did not kill any of the neighbors livestock. He had slipped up last Spring, killed a couple of new born calves. Couldn't resist the smell of so much blood. He had not been back for awhile, it would be good to see them. As he sunk his teeth into the freshly caught buck, it quivered and kicked weakly. Good, still alive the wolf thought. The blood would still be hot._

The woman. The woman was Claire, Claire Randall then. What a stroke of luck. While the big Scot and his Godfather were in a heated discussion with Frank Randall, Beval had backed away, turned and walked toward the barn. A few steps forward and he quickened his pace to a brisk walk.

* * *

"I thought I smelled blood mixed with a tinge of fear." The baritone voice said.

His eyes took in the boy and the dog with a glance. Most definitely from the Stones. His nose rarely failed him, got things wrong. Both were easy scents to identify and remember. Her's, the woman's was much different. Complicated. There was no actual scent that would tell him in a crowd, where she was. She had smells and odors about her... the hare, it's blood, soil, onions, garlic. Sex, recently; he could smell the male's scent all over her. It was not the woman's husband Randall either. No, he knew who the male was. Fraser, the big red headed Scot in the kilt he'd been working along side all morning. He sniffed again. They had mated in the past, several times in fact, but not today for some reason. Maybe because the husband was here. He smelled again. He smelled chicken's blood but it was old, yesterday or the day before maybe. The cows and heather were more recent. Last night, perhaps. Then there was the soap that was trying to camouflage it all, wash it away. But it was the scent that made up who she was, that she was missing... no special scent that would identify her as uniquely herself. He sniffed the air again. A child; she was with child. He wondered if the father was Fraser or Randall. No, she did not have that special scent. Why? And what was with the light blue glow from her hands when she was handling the hare's leg? He'd never seen that before either. She was not like anything he had ever come across. And he had been around, seen a lot in his lifetime. Everything had a special scent... except her. He focused on her, could not take his eyes off her.

"Ruff" Fred squeaked and grabbed Brom. "Wuffbed, Chair. Go. Run."

"Shoo boy. Take your little dog too, before I eat you." He snapped his teeth together with a click and smiled. His smile was pure evil, almost daring the boy to try to protect the woman. Oh, he remembered. He owed the boy.

Claire watched as the man licked his lips after he spoke. It sent a shiver down her spine and fear into her heart as it began to race. She helped Fred from the stool and pushed him behind her, somehow never taking her eyes off the man walking toward them, for even a moment. She could swear he had grown a light beard and that his ears were developing pointed tips as he strolled toward them. That could not be. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. His eyes were focused on her now and no longer on Fred.

He was just walking past the open barn doors, when Claire whispered to Fred "Run. Now." She felt the boy move and heard his footstep running away.

The man stopped and smiled at her. "Ah, protecting the boy are you now Claire. That's interesting. Do you know the lad then? And his dog?"

"I've only just met them today" she stated, then thought... "how did you know my name?"

"Lucky guess. You see I worked all morning along side two men by the name of Fraser... I find it impossible to understand why that buffoon of a husband can not keep track of something as precious as you" and his lips formed a half smile that showed an exceptionally long canine. "I suppose I should be a tiny bit grateful. His incompetence is now clearly my gain." Beval stated as he took another step forward.

Claire immediately took a step back. Another step and she would be able to look down the side of the barn to make sure Fred was safe.

"Flee. Go ahead and try. You'll never out run me." Beval arrogantly spoke. "I do enjoy a good chase."

Claire froze.

"Ah good. I like it when the food listens to me. It doesn't happen often." The box containing the hare began bouncing around the table top.

"Food?" Claire repeated. "Why would you call me that?"

He sniffed. Oh she was scared, almost as much as the injured animal. Her heart was racing. He could hear it pounding and smelled her blood heating from the fear. "Oh, not you," Beval lied with a croon and took another step forward. His hand now rested on the tabletop where she had applied aide the hare only minutes ago. The moment his hand touched the stand, the hare cage stilled, it's occupant frightened past fear. "I meant the hare." Beval ran his tongue slowly across his lips again as he spoke.

Claire took another half step back, praying the boy found safety. The man talked about the hare, but she knew he had really meant Fred. Why? He was here to help the Macevy family, wasn't he?

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye her fear was gone. He smelled a shift in her heart beat as it slowed, calmed. He sniffed again. She had a scent now. Why? What had happened? Then the answer. Fraser. The large, red headed Scot appeared behind her. She had sensed his presence and that had calmed her. Her non-existent scent had somehow combined with his... She smelled of lavender, soil, garlic. It was a clean, almost healthy scent was the only way he had to describe the new smell; a warm, blue, clean. It combined with Frasers... an oldness, heather, earth and animals. Strange he thought as he stood there looking at the two of them together. Touching. They must be touching. He stopped his forward progress.

Claire sighed and relaxed the moment Jamie came up behind her and placed his fingers against her fisted hand. It immediately opened, allowing him to hold it in his. She automatically stepped back against him. His body's warmth enveloped her, keeping her from the coolness of the shock that was trying to take her body. She closed her eyes as his hand released hers, slipped around her waist and pulled her against him. He must have sensed her fear.

 _They had been arguing, he and Randall. He had stopped to take a breath and raised his eyes to the sky as he did. That's when he noticed movement by the barn. Keir, Beval Keir. What was he doing? How had he gotten there so quickly and why? Jamie watched as he walked along the side of the barn and when he got to the corner he turned and leaned against the side of the barn like he was watching somethin'n._

" _Shush, Frank." Jamie said with an inflection that would brook no argument._

 _That had made is Godfather look up. Jamie motioned his head toward the barn and Beval._

" _What the hell?" Murtagh muttered to no one._

" _Aye" Jamie said. "My thoughts exactly" and he walked away from Randall with no explanation offered, grabbing the sledgehammer as he headed for the barn. Before Jamie, with Murtagh in tow, had traversed half the distance, Beval disappeared around the corner of the barn. Jamie broke into a trot and made for the front of the barn and the open doors. He and Murtagh reached the front opening just as Beval, so focused on what lay directly in front of him, failed to notice Murtagh or Jamie, as he walked passed the opening at the other end of the barn. All Jamie's instincts told him Beval was after Claire, no the lad. He nodded at Murtagh and motioned for his Godfather to go though the barn and come up behind Beval. Jamie motioned that he would go down the far side of the barn and come out facing him. They'd box him in. Murtagh nodded and trotted down the aisle of the barn. Jamie rounded the corner just as the wee lad came flying up, carrying a rather large puppy in his arms. The lad was too busy watch'n where he was running from and no where he was go'n... as fast as his legs would move him. The boy and dog ran right into Jamie._

" _Wuff. Help Chair. Peas!" Fred pleaded to Jamie._

" _Aye lad." Jamie said as he dropped the sledgehammer, scooped up the lad and dog and turned to run. There was Frank standing just feet away. "Take the lad to his da. Seamus Macvey. In the field, Frank. Now." He did not wait for an answer as he pushed the lad into a surprised Randall's arms and rounded the corner at a run. He forgot all about the sledgehammer in his haste. He felt his heart pounding. Half way down the length of the barn, Jamie saw half of Claire's back step into view. She was alright. He slowed his pace, stilled his breathing and just before he stepped out into view, he reached out and touched her hand._

 _He felt her fear shift immediately to calm._

Then she was safe. His arm wrapped around her waist. Holding her tightly against him. He felt her relax into his body. The fear slipping away now that he had her. If need be, he could easily turn her, send her running toward the house and help. At the first sign of danger, he would do just that. When he looked up, he saw his Godfather standing a few steps behind the man they had worked beside all morning, in friendship. But that was no the same man that stood before him now. It was Keir, true enough, but how had the man grown the stubble of a day's beard on his face in the time it took to walk from the water bucket to the barn. And the man's eyes... somethin'n was off on them as well. They carried a look he ken too well. He'd seen that darkness in only one other pair of eyes. The dark, black eyes of that bastard Randall, Captain of His Majesty's Eighth Dragoons.

"Leave Claire be." Jamie stated in as even a tone as he could manage. "She has done ye no harm."

"No, you are correct. She has not. I do not know her not even of her. I was only required to find her. Another is seeking her whereabouts. I was given strict instructions to do nothing more." Beval informed them. What _la sorcière's_ bidding did not include was to have no interaction with Claire.

"Beval. There you are. Ma is ready to go. She sent me to fetch you." Chal said with as much joviality as he could muster. He needed to defuse the tension, get his brother away from here and safely back home. He stepped forward, passing Murtagh and placed a hand on his brothers shoulder. He could feel his brother's magic recede. Chal was shocked. His brother had begun to change. Hopefully the Fraser did not pick up on the subtle changes his brother's body had begun. He had gotten here in time.

Beval looked to his brother, closed his eyes and nodded. He had done no irreputable damage. Another minute and things would not have ended well and he knew it.

"Did you find your brother, Chal?" a femine voice called from inside the barn. A woman of medium height with short cropped black hair stepped into the light. "There you both are. We have stayed too long. We need to be on our way. We have chores of our own we have put off long enough." She stepped forward with her hand extended to the only other woman present, Claire. "Hello" she said. I'm Magda Keir. I see you've met my boy Beval. I hope he has been _behaving_ himself. Stangers do not take to him as a rule."

Claire extended her hand in courtesy. "I'm Claire. Claire Beuchamp." and she looked up and met Beval eyes. Surprise shot through them and was quickly gone. He wasn't looking for a Claire Beuchamp, she determined.

Beval adsorbed this new information. That explained a great deal. She did not go through the stones because she never married Randall, perhaps. Instead she had formed an attachment to Fraser and now, even though unmarried, found herself pregnant, with what, he would guess, was Jamie Fraser's child. No wonder the man had come running to protect her, sending the Godfather to take up the rear. The Frasers of Lallybroch were... Friend or Foe?

"You should keep a closer eye on your woman, Fraser. There are many people out there across time, continents and within orders who seek the _Holy Grail._ Some of them will go to great lengths to obtain that which they seek, including assassinating kings and toppling empires. There are many that seek la dame blanche pure et belle ( _the pure and beautiful white lady_ ). I, myself, was commissioned to find her, and believe I have found the woman I search for. If I had be instructed to do so, all I would have to do now is reach out my hand and take her. I was not charged with that task and now do not believe I will be returning to France any time in the near future."

Beval, walked to the door of the barn, Chal right behind him. He turned. His mother was rooted in place. Just staring at Claire with her hand over her mouth.

"Ma" Chal said softly, walked back and took her by the elbow.

Magda immediately snapped from her reflective state. "It was very nice to meet you Claire. The next time we meet, perhaps we will have time to speak. I think I would like to get to know you better." The three Keir left, exiting through the barn together.

* * *

His brother Chal had talked him into coming today. He hadn't wanted to come. He didn't much care to be around strangers nor they around him. His mother had promised their help to Flora Macvey so they had no choice. They were trying to build friendships, trying to find a life, make a new beginning here. They liked Broch Mordha they both proclaimed that first night back, when he'd brought the venison. His mother had roasted it over the fire so she and his brother could eat. It had been a long time since he had brought them fresh game. Living only on what the farm produced while he was gone. Only he and his father could shift into wolf form and his father was gone. Dead. His mother and he heard the stones call. Chal was the reason they were careful. He was mortal and needed their protection. They were here today because Chal had decided on a particular young lady for a mate. His heart was set on Laoghaire MacKenzie. And having seen her today, he understood his brother's attraction. She was a pretty, young girl though did not seem very bright. He was not convinced she would be a good choice for their mother either. She seemed to like to help, but disliked being bossed around by the other women. She seemed a bit too curious for his liking as well. Not taking his vague answers about where he'd been and what he did without asking for more details than he was willing to share. She might just be cleaver enough to venture into the mist and see the secrets that lay hidden.

This woman, Claire, however, had made it a different sort of day...

* * *

Murtagh walked to stand beside Jamie and Claire turned and melted into Jamie's chest with a gasp. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, stroking her hair.

"Do ye ken any of them Claire?" Murtagh asked softly.

She shook her head _No._

"No even from yer war? Beval spoke some French, it sounded like." Murtagh mentioned.

"Claire," Jamie said and placed a knuckle under her chin to lift her face to look at him. "I ken ye want te leave, but Murtagh and I need to stay for a while longer. I would take ye into the main house and ask the ladies to make ye a cup of tea but I heard things did'na go so well fer ye this morning. You will come back to the shed, where I can keep an eye on ye until we are ready to leave, aye?"

Claire nodded her head.

"I ken ye have a lot to tell me about what just happened. I can'na make head or tail of most of it but I do'na think here is the best place te have that conversation. We will speak more about it when we get back te Lallybroch." He kissed her lightly on the forehead and the three of them walked back to the calving shed.

Jamie sat Claire on the wall next to the water bucket. He scaned the men's faces, though he was sure the Keirs were gone. Frank was nowhere to be seen either. Jamie and Murtagh climbed up on the roof to check the timbers and mend or replace those that showed signs of weakness or rot.

Jamie never needed to climb down and check on Claire. By placing her next to the water bucket, she was never alone for long. The men were drawn to her like a moth to the flame. She smiled and laughed and if he did'na ken her better, he'd have said she was flirting, but he ken that to be just Claire's way. She had her wee black box with her behind the barn. Said she had been healing one of _Fred's_ injured animals. So the men found this scrap or that splinter and went directly to his Claire to be healed. Jamie smiled.

"I wish it would been that easy for her with the women." Jamie said to Murtagh and nodded his head in Claire's direction.

"Maybe it can be, if she wins the men over, the women will follow their husbands lead." Murtagh replied.

As he climbed down to fetch more nails, he noticed Fred and _Brom_ were sitting on the wall next to Claire. Rabbie Macvey was busy telling her a story, had her smiling and laughing. He motioned to the boy to come. He whispered instructions to the lad and Fred vigorously nodded his head and he and the dog scampered away. Jamie walked over te the water bucket and helped himself to some water. While Claire continued to listen, nod and laugh at Rabbie's tale, she gently ran her fingers though his hair. The same way he had calmed her with his touch, she calmed him. He closed his eyes and felt her comb the anger from him. He sighed. She could do this to him all day and he did'na think he'd ever tire of it. He moved his head so her hand stroked his cheek, and he turned into the palm and kissed it. She turned and looked at him with sated eyes.

"We are almost finished for today Claire. Just a few minutes more." He smiled. He turned to Rabbie and said, "would ye mind keep'n an eye on my lady? Murtagh and I are almost finished. Then we'll be heid'n home for the night."

"Aye, no problem Jamie. Claire and I are just talk'n, 'tis all. She is wonderful." Rabbie said and gave him a quick nod.

* * *

Jamie patted Rabbie on the back and climbed back up the ladder. True to his word, less than half an hour later he and Murtagh climbed back down. Done for the day. They were the last off the roof so they lowered the ladder and laid it on the ground next to the house. Murtagh took the hammers and the bag of nails and place them in one of the boxes beside the ladder. Jamie helped Claire down from the wall and she grabbed the water bucket and ladel as Jamie took her hand and they walked the path, along with all the other workers, and headed toward the barn and main house.

Claire sat the bucket on the bench outside the barn and turned to Jamie, as she brushed her skirt off.

"Clalre, would ye mind going into that pasture, and he pointed to one behind the main house. Seamus said someone left three milking stools there." and Jamie pointed. "See them hanging on the fence?"

Claire looked up and yes, there were three milking stools – two hanging on the fence on the far side of the pasture about twenty feet apart. The third was on the opposite side of the pasture almost directly across from the others. Why would someone do that, she wondered. She looked up and Jamie.

He was looking as her, smiling. "Come. Let's help the Macveys out, aye? We'll be off as soon as ye've collected them." He walked over to the pasture gate with her and opened enough to admit her. Frank came running over, carrying her wellies.

"Claire, wait." Frank said as he came to a stop. "You don't want to make a mess of your loafers." He set the boots down and offered his arm to steady herself as she stepped out of one loafer and into the wellie and then repeated the process with the other foot. She bent down and picked up both leather shoes and handed them to Frank.

"If you wouldn't mind holding these, while I fetch the _stools._ " She gave Jamie a knowing look and stepped through the gate. Jamie closed it behind her but did not latch it.

Fred came running up with Brom and started to step through the rails to follow Claire. Jamie grabbed him by the shirt neck and pulled him gently back. "No Fred. You stand here with us. Claire needs to do this alone." He lifted the lad up and helped him to sit on the top rail of the gate. Jamie stood behind him as they watched Claire walk toward the first stool. There were several cows at the top of the pastures, grazing. They stopped and took a casual interest in what Claire was doing. When she reached the first stool, three started to walk toward her.

"Whatcha look'n at son?" Seamus asked as he came up and stood beside Fred.

"Watch'n Chair. Get coos da." Fred answered.

Jamie smiled.

Mutagh leaning on the gate beside Jamie, and chuckled. "Aye, lad. That she is."

When the first cow reached her, Claire stopped and scratched it's ears. The second bumped it out of the way and Claire scratched it's chin. She turned and walked toward the second stool. Half a dozen more cows appeared at the top of the pasture rise and started to walk down to greet Claire.

By the time she had collecte the second stool, and started toward the third she had almost fifteen cows following her with half a dozen more coming over the rise. She didn't stop this time, she picked the stool of the fence, mid stride and turned back toward the gate. The last cow was jogging down the hill to catch up with the rest of the herd.

Jamie nudge Murtagh. They looked behind them and just about every man still at the Macvey's was watching Claire lead the cows in from the pasture. Not one word was utterd, their mouths gapping open.

Jamie nodded to Murtagh and he left, disappearing into the barn.

Jamie, holding onto Fred swung the gate open as Claire approached. "Would ye mind putt'n the stools in the barn, Claire? It would be a great help te Seamus here."

Seamus just stood there staring, chin almost resting on the ground.

Claire snorted at Jamie as she passed and walked out of the pasture, up the barn ramp and into the barn, leading the entire herd in for the night. Murtagh was at the back of the barn. "Here lass. We'll leave out the back." And they closed the door behind them as they left.

They found Jamie, John and Frank waiting for them in the yard in front of the barn. Jamie kissed Claire, took her hand and Clan Fraser walked to the Lallybroch truck. Frank drove, Murtagh and John sat in front and Jamie held Claire in his arms the entire way back to Lallybroch. They all laughed quietly.

Leaving a stunned group of men, all contemplating what they had just witnessed. "Do ye suppose she can do that with sheep?" Father Brown asked.


	28. Chapter 28 -- Claire

Je Suis Prest – Claire's Heart

Claire closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax. She was glad to be back at Lallybroch and soaking in a hot bath after the long day. Macvey's dairy farm had opened her eyes to just how exhilarating life in a small farming community could be. Broch Mordha's tightly knit collective had selflessly come together to help one of their own. How hard everyone had worked together toward the common goal of building the calving shed; many had put their differences aside to aid an established, local family in need of help. The Macvey's were so appreciative; they could not stop thanking the folks that had come, in the spirit of helping another in need. Jamie had told Claire they were going to contribute to this project, to convey to the village that _The Frasers_ were going to be a part of the town, long term investors. It quickly became obvious to her just who's idea this whole barn raising thing had really been - Jamie's, with maybe a dash of Murtagh. Virtual strangers to the village when she left them less than two weeks ago, both Jamie and Murtagh now had become fully integrated in Broch Mordha's community, to the point where Jamie was clearly responsible for the organization of the entire event. Well, perhaps not the food, but at least the building of the calving barn portion anyway. From what she could determine, Jamie had asked the entire village to help and almost all had shown up to do just that. Not all could stay the entire day – some came early and left after a few hours, others came later and left with the rest at the end of the day. Even those with a business to run or a family with small children found time to work a couple of hours, doing what they could. She watched as Jamie, not only directed the work but also physically labored shoulder to shoulder with the group, moving and shaping rocks, mixing the cement, hammering wood. She could not have been more proud of him. He was a natural leader, born to it Claire thought as she sank under the hot water. Jamie was Lallybroch's true Laird, whether the town knew it or not and he behaved like it. Once totally submerged, she lost herself in the quiet reflection of how well Jamie and Murtagh had acclimated themselves to their new lives. With only the sound of her thoughts and darkness as her companions, she wondered if this silent, dark wetness was what it must have been like in utero. Perhaps that was why she relished these, long, hot soaks.

A noise startled her from her solitude. Was that a knock? Claire surfaced and listened. Yes, there it was again, another soft tap at the door.

"Yes?" She called out.

"Sassenach. I'm sorry to disturb your soak."

She smiled to herself.

"I... 'um..."

"Is something wrong, Jamie? Is someone hurt?" She sighed and started to get up from the tub. Men. Can't leave them alone for too long. Someone always manages to thump the other in the head or some such nonsense. "Does John need me?" she thought to inquire.

"No. No, everyone is fine. It's just..."

Claire could hear Jamie stumble to find the right words. "It's alright Jamie, come in. Just know that I am in the bath..."

Jamie slowly opened the door and poked his head in. "Ye wouldn't mind if I came in to talk with ye for a minute, would ye? I have something on my mind and I can no seem to wait for yer to emerge from ye repose to discuss it with ye. I hate to disturb your privacy, ye get so little of it around here but..."

"Of course, Jamie. Come in, it's fine. It's not like you've never seen me naked, and if you remember, we have shared a bath before." She smiled at him.

He gave her a weak, half smile in return and focused on the wall above her head as he walked in and closed the door softly behind him.

Claire barely heard it latch she was so focused on Jamie's demeanor. Something was most definitely wrong. She had never known him not to meet her in the eye even the night before he and Murtagh tried to go back through the stones. He would not look at her now. Everything in the bathroom seemed to grab his attention but her.

The dodgy glances made her gut clench and her heart skip a beat. It couldn't be good, this talk he wanted to have. She knew he sometimes disapproved of an outfit she wore, but he had complimented her on her choice of a plaid wool skirt, pullover jumper and leather loafers, before they hand left Lallybroch. She had even worn stockings, something she usually reserved for work. Had she said or done something wrong at the Macveys? Slighted someone and not even been aware? She did not have that many conversations with the women that she could have said something rude and not known it, she didn't think. She really only had her brief conversations with Flora mostly. It was Flora that had been coy and verbally abusive to her. Even John knew that Flora had been out of line, he had come to her defense. It had not been her fault. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. What had she done? The Keirs. That had to be it. She had thought it had just been between she and Beval, Frasers and Keirs. But Fred had been involved. Maybe he had said something to his mother or father. But she had thought that leading the cows in from pasture would smoothed things over... that was why Jamie had her do it, as a favor to Seamus and the farm. Oh, she was lost now. She had no idea where Jamie was going with this. She just knew it would not end well. She was not up for another argument. They still had not discussed the Keirs and she had some things to tell Jamie about that. Things she had buried a long time ago. She owed Jamie the truth now. All of it as she knew it but she needed to talk to Lamb and Raymond first.

She looked up. Jamie was leaning against the closed door, hands behind his back and his foot half kicking the floor. "Out with it Jamie. Whatever it is that I've done. Just tell me. I will apologize to whomever I offended today. You know how much I wanted to try and fit in, to be a part of things today. I really wanted to help. To make you proud of me. I have failed, haven't I?" She had tried so hard with the ladies today . She knew almost immediately they were, for some odd reason, not happy with her. She didn't know what she had said or done to displease them. She had tried talking to them. When she asked them questions, most gave her monosyllabic replies. She tried to help in the kitchen, they said they didn't need her, that perhaps the group outside could use her. When she went outside to help set up tables and chair, she was told her services were not needed, to try the kitchen. She had not made a single friend, except maybe Jane Macvey, but Jane had said she would find Claire later in the day and never had. Claire sighed. No, today had not gone well.

Jamie stopped shuffling his foot and looked up at her. "Oh no. No, Sassenach. Ye did just fine today. I could'na help but notice ye did no spend a great deal of time with the ladies though. I think most of ye conversations were with the men, aye? But, that's no..., well it's part... sort'a..." and he looked at the floor as the fingers of his left hand tapped an unheard rhythm on his thigh.

"Jamie," Claire said softly, close to tears. Whatever he had to tell her, he clearly did not want to. "I should get out of the tub for this, shouldn't I? Why don't you go back to the bedroom and I'll be there in a moment. I suppose I should be dressed to hear whatever it is you have to tell me."

Jamie looked up again. Surprised by her words. "No, stay where ye are. I don't think this will take verra long. Ye may want the privacy yer soak will provide ye when I'm done say'n what needs to be said."

Well, if she wasn't nervous before, she certainly was now. She could really use a whiskey, in all honesty. A nice stiff drink to calm her nerves. "Jamie, look, you are making me nervous. Just say whatever it is you need to say." Claire pleaded as she sat up in the bath. No longer reposed and relaxed, her heart beat started to gain speed with each breath. "Sit down, please. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Just say it straight out. Don't worry about my feelings."

As if reading her mind, a glass materialized from behind Jamie's back, accompanied by an open bottle of whiskey. Jamie filled the tumbler half full, took a sip and handed the glass to Claire. "Of course I am worrit about ye feelings. How could I no care if ye are sad or unhappy? Would ye tell me if ye were, Sassenach?"

She took it from his hand and closed her eyes to stop the tears she could feel forming. "Oh, I think you have always known whatever I am feeling, happy or sad. My glass face, as you call it, will always keep me honest with you." When she opened them, Jamie was looking at her, the same sadness written on his face as well. At least he was not trying to hide how he felt. Claire took a sip of the libation and looked down at the water, moving her finger on the surface, watching the rippling motion it created while she tried to collect her thoughts. Jamie was never at a loss for words. He always knew the right thing to say to her. Whatever he had to talk to her about weighed heavily on his heart. She did not think he wanted to have this conversation but felt he must. She would have to be brave and hear whatever it was he needed to say.

She looked up and found Jamie watching her. She sucked in a breath and said "Jamie, remember that night in the inn when you were so upset? I made you take a bath and I sat down, with my back to the tub, and we just talked. We can do that now, if you'd like. We'll have just switched places. Would that be alright? Would that make it easier for you?"

Jamie nodded.

"Come sit down then. Sit with your back to me, if that will make this easier for you."

Jamie sat on the floor, as far away from Claire as he could get – the opposite end of the tub, leaning his back against the edge, facing the sink. This was going to be hard enough, he didn't think he would be able to produce coherent speech if he looked at her or she touched him. He needed a drink, liquid courage, for what he had to do. Rather than ask Claire for the glass, he drank directly from the bottle. After he took a second swallow, he cleared his throat. Best get this done. Ask her and know the truth of it then. "Sassenach," he started, but choked on the word. It was his name for her, a term of endearment. It also spoke volumes. _Stranger. Outsider_. Perhaps the community had misunderstood the affection he had for her, when he called Claire that. He raised his knees and rested his forearms on them and turned the bottle over in his hands. _Johnnie Walker._ He had never heard of the distillery. _Kilmarnock._ He had no idea where that was.

Jamie shifted as he settled on the floor.

Claire silently prayed this conversation would not end with Jamie sending her back to Inverness. "Please Jamie. Just say what you have to say. We always promised each other truth. From that first night..."

He cleared his throat again. "Claire." That tasted wrong when he said it, because she was more than just that name to him but he had managed to utter it with a bit of strength and conviction so he forged ahead. "Am I enough for you?" His voice starting out strong with _Am_ but ending in barely a whisper on _you._ He had not heard his voice crack like that since he was a lad. "Tis a sign yer grow'n up" his da had told him. Still true, he supposed.

He heard not a sound. Not even Claire's breathing. God knows he had stopped breathing in anticipation of her reply. He turned to look at her. He was surprised by the shock on her face.

"What?" Claire managed to stutter out.

Jamie blinked and looked away again. Back to the bottle that he rotated between his hands. "I won't ever be verra important nor have much te give. I won't ever be the Laird I was meant to be or be able te offer you grand things, Claire. I'll never be more than a farmer here, eking out a live'n." He lifted his head and looked directly at her for the first time since he entered the room. "Life on a farm is hard work, Sassenach. There is always work fer ye te do than there are hours of light. You go te bed, dirty, exhausted and sometimes hungry." He paused for a breath. "And ye get up the next morn'n, ready and will'n te do it all again, ye ken? That is the life I ken. That is the life I offer ye. Is that the life that ye want?"

Claire just stared. Did not even blink. She had been huddled in a ball when Jamie started to talk. The tumbler of whiskey perched on her knee. She was too afraid to take a drink. She needed a clear head to listen to Jamie tell her he was sending her back to Inverness. That she did not fit into the community, his lifestyle. That he did not want her. But what he was really trying to say, or rather ask, was – would she be willing to live the life he was offering her? He was giving her chance to back out of the only way of life he knew. If he wasn't so serious, she'd almost laugh.

"I won't ever be able to give ye the life ye deserve. Ye have such a grand flat in Inverness. And friends and work ye enjoy. Lallybroch is no even mine and today was proof enough that the ladies will no be verra friendly te ye. Ye might be friendless and alone, except for yer Wee Clan Fraser." He had to look up at ceiling. He couldn't look at her... Her face was so soft, like she was about to cry. No hard and mad, fight'n for an argument, like he expected from her. Like when he told her she could'na come through the stones with him. He wanted so badly to just grab her right now and hold her in his arms and tell her she was his, all he ever wanted. He would'na let her go, the stones had sent him here to find her. His true mate. But he owed her this choice. This one time he would be brave and strong, to let her decided her own fate. And he prayed he'd be strong enough to let her go when she chose her life in Inverness over him.

Claire did not say a word. Did not interrupt. She wanted to yell at him, for being so silly. To think that she would ever choose anything other than a life with him and the happiness he offered her. She took a sip of the dram. And waited for Jamie to stop talking. She had a few things to say to him.

"Ye are so bonnie and educated and funny... Could ye ever be happy with the simple life of the farm that I offer te ye?"

She set the glass of scotch on the seat lid of the loo and laid the length of her arm down on the edge of the tub, her fingers stretching toward him. Her face full of the love and compassion her heart held for this man.

"This is no a big city, just a small farming village, Claire. There won't be any fancy dinners to take ye to. We won't be able to travel 'for we can'na leave the farm unattended nor will there ever be enough money te ever go." Jamie looked down and saw Claire's hand extended toward him. He looked at her, closed his eyes and quietly whispered "Praise God, Sassenach, 'for ye glass face." He opened his eyes and laid his hand on the tub, inching his fingers toward hers. And when his fingertips touched hers, their hands raised, '... _palm to palm as holy palmers kiss_ _...'_

Their fingers found each other and laced as Claire scooted down to the middle of the tub and said "James Fraser, _you_ are my home, do you not realize that? Where ever you are is where I will always want to be. No cackling geese or clucking hens will chase me away from you. As long as you want me, I will be right by your side, my Laird Broch Tuarach."

Jamie smiled with both his eyes and his heart. "Truly Sassenach?"

"Truly Jamie. I was adamant about following you through the stones, wasn't I? Knowing that the 18th century Lallybroch would be nothing like this one," she said. "I have never lived a life of luxury. Never desired _things._ I knew Jamie, just knew you were the one I had waited my entire life for. When you looked up at me, dripping wet in my kitchen, and those beautiful blue eyes locked on mine staring right into my soul." She lifted her hand, extending it's index finger to run down Jamie's strong jaw. "You took my heart away, right then and there, in that kitchen. I was absolutely and completely yours and you had not uttered a single word. I lost control of my body, do you remember? I had to grab the table to keep my knees from collapsing and sending me to the floor in a melted heap at your feet. When I had not even begun to recover, you stood up. Your heavenly scent of wool and horses, rain and heather mixed with testosterone hitting my orafactors at the same time as the ocular splendor that is you, dazzled my senses completely. I think I fainted, if only for a moment and, when I came to, I was in your arms and all I wanted was your lips on mine, Jamie. For you to possess me, take me on that ride of euphoria that no one else has ever come close to making me feel. I could not decide where I wanted you to touch me first, my whole body was on fire, needing the feel of your hands on me, lips caressing me. Did you know that, Jamie? Could you feel my desire?"

Jamie nodded, unable to speak. His hand reached up and started to touch her but before he could Claire continued...

"The funny thing is, it still happens to me, every time you walk into a room. I will never want anyone else the way I want you. Never think for one moment that anything could replace a life with you. I choose you James Fraser, you are all I will ever want or need. My whole life has been a series of steps, leading me to you."

"Mo Neighan Donn, may I kiss ye?" his voice asked with a quiver.

When their lips met, it was the softest, sweetest, most loving thing she had ever experienced.

When the kiss ended, Claire said "Get in the bath with me. There is something I must do."

She did not have to suggest it twice. Jamie could not get out of his clothes fast enough.

When he stepped into the tub, she had him sit with his back to her and she kissed the back of his neck. She took her rinsing bowl and poured the warm water over him and with her washcloth and soap, began to wash him. Around the back of his neck and ears. Across the long slope of his shoulders and down his back, carefully cleaning the scares. Then under the water to clean his waist and buttocks. She took her bowl and poured water on him until the soap was washed away and left his skin a pale pink. She stood, with her rag, soap and bowl and eased passed him in the tub until she stood in front of him.

Jamie reached up and placed his hands on the backs of her thighs, holding her in place and gently kissed her legs. He heard a sigh of contentment pass her lips and he thought his heart would burst.

Claire ran the fingers of her hand though his hair as his lips caressed her body. Finally she found the words... "Let me finish first, Jamie. Please." Her face soft with the love she felt for this man sitting before her.

He stopped and allowed her to sit again, and while she washed the front of his neck, shoulders, arms and chest, she told him of tribe of people she had once lived among, where it was considered a great honor to be allowed to wash their king.

He laughed. "I am no a king, Sassenach." and smiled what Claire called his 'wicked' half smile.

To which Claire responded, "You are my king, my love" and began to wash the parts of Jamie that that where submerged, with gentleness and special care given to cleaning certain parts of his anatomy.

"I could get used to this, Mo Neighan Donn."

Claire responded by wetting and washing his hair. "I did not know one man could have this much dirt stuck to his body" she said as she looked down at the brown water they were now both waist deep in. When she rinsed his hair, straw was added, floating on the water's surface. Claire turned, pulled the plug and allowed the water to drain, then began to fill the tub up with clean, hot water.

Jamie picked up the soap and lathered his hands. He allowed his soapy palms to glide over her back then began to massage her neck and shoulders, to remove the tense muscles he found there. Jamie immediately felt Claire's body begin to relax in appreciation and she moaned softly.

He rinsed her with the water from the tub by cupping his hands and when she turned the water from the tap off, he put an arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. Jamie leaned back against the end of the tub and Claire rolled onto her side, her face against his sternum. She softly stroked the hairs on the skin covering his pectoral muscle. "You are not too little, nor too much Jamie. You are just enough for me." and she placed a kiss on his chest.

Jamie hugged Claire tightly to his chest and sniffed the lavender scent of her hair, knowing that was the smell of home to him now. He rested his chin on top of her head, closed his eyes and sighed.

Claire came down stairs first, wanting to make a cup of tea before bed. Maybe she could make some sort of snack as well, since she had elected to skip supper and soak in the tub instead. The men had said they were not hungry either. There had been plenty to eat at the Macvey's.

* * *

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" She yelled when she opened the door to the kitchen. The room was a disaster. There was flour everywhere, almost like a light dusting of snow. She could even track foot prints across the floor. She grabbed hold of a nearby chair for support as she took it all in. It looked as if every pot, pan and plate was now dirty. They were covering every flat surface in the kitchen, including the chair she was leaning on. As Claire walked further into the kitchen, she passed what she could only assume was the table. So littered with dirty dishes, food stuff and flour snow that she'd hardly recognized it. She peeked into one of the larger mixing bowls that sat in the chair she was leaning on and exclaimed "What now? The mixing bowls now double as bowls used for eating?" She was tried to decide what was in it. Porridge she finally decided, after dipping her finger in and tasting it. It looked more like wall paste.

Jamie thundered into the kitchen, swinging open the door with slam, Frank hiding behind him.

Claire turned, her mouth agape, and waved her hands in all directions. "Just what the bloody hell happened, while I was having a soak? You all said you were not hungry when I went upstairs. How long could that have been? A half hour? An hour at the most! You can not tell me you could make this much of a mess in so short an amount of time." And she glared at them both. "I don't think a dozen rambunctious boys could level a room with the proficiency four grown men have managed."

"I made porridge. Everyone ate it." Jamie confessed. " 'Twas Frank that made the mess. He said he could make those biscuits you concocted with the chicken for yesterday's lunch. 'Tis why there is flour all over the table and counter."

"I only offered to make the biscuits after Murtagh failed so miserably to produce one edible banicks" Frank countered defensively.

"Bannocks" Jamie interjected.

"Yes fine, bannocks. That disaster is still sitting over there on that baking sheet." Frank wheeled and pointed to the counter by the oven. "You could break a tooth on one. They are not fit for human consumption, hard as bloody rocks. So yes, alright then, Claire. I made biscuits, though admittedly not as good as yours."

"Yers we could take to Macveys tomorrow and use as small stones for the barn," Jamie mumbled under his breath.

"Clearly Claire, I might be responsible for some of is mess" Frank interjected as he glared at Jamie through angry, squinty eyes. "But not all of it."

Claire had reached the stove and turned the lit burner off. She looked down into the kitchen pot to see what she would guess was the last of Jamie's porridge. Burnt and Black. The pot was going to be a nightmare to clean. There was a frying pan with two pieces of ham still in it, an open bottle of milk on the counter and the bowl of eggs was sitting on top of what was left of a loaf of bread. Every cooking utensil and knife looked to have be used and lay dirty, scattered through out the kitchen.

"Where are the other two rapscallions?" Claire demanded as she turned to face Jamie and Frank. "Hiding, I suppose?"

"No" Frank said. "Murtagh and John said they needed to run a errand and left in the truck after Jamie went upstairs to have his little talk with you. We had completed our discussion about you... while.. we.. ate..."

Jamie wanted to grab Randall by the throat and shake him for that. The man could'na keep his mouth shut around Claire. Always whining to her about one thing or another. The man had no backbone when it came to his Sassenach.

"Discussion? About me?" Claire spoke slowly, as her eyes shifted to Jamie. "What about me, Frank?" she inquired, turning her focus back to Frank.

"Um, well, Jamie just wanted to... thought that... asked us..."

"Whether you thought I was cut out for life on a farm, Frank?" Her eyes boring into him. "And what was your opinion on the subject, Frank? For or against?" Claire's finger started to tap on the counter she was leaning against.

Frank shifted his eyes from Claire to Jamie and back again. "Well, I had thoughts for and against your staying here..."

"And how did that go? The for- what were your pro's then Frank? I would like to know what you find positive about my staying here at Lallybroch with Jamie." Claire straighten her shoulders. She was resolve in her determination to make all of them understand she was not going anywhere. Jamie, and Lallybroch, were now her home. She would allow no argument to go unrebutted.

Jamie wisely stepped away from Randall and yet still shrewd enough to still give Claire her distance. He had an idea that when Claire finished with Randall, and if Murtagh and John were not back, that he would be the next she focused her anger on. Somehow, without trying, he managed to find his way back into her displeasure. He thought maybe to attempt to soften that anger by cleaning some of the mess while Claire and Frank had their row but Claire was leaning against the sink, so he sat in a chair by the fire and attempted to be innocuous, watching quietly.

"Well, Claire as you know...

"No Frank. Quite honestly I don't know. So why don't you start by telling me what I should know."

"Well, Claire. The pros for Jamie are that, I believe, you to be madly infatuated with him..."

"Infatuated? Seriously? Like a school girl crush, is what you think?"

"Yes, umm, no I mean. Well, yes Claire, if I am to be completely candid. I think this is a bit of an infatuation. How can you possibly have fallen in love with a man you barely know?"

"And this is your pro argument, Frank? That I can not possibly love Jamie so I should _remain_ at Lallybroch with Jamie! Pray tell what is your argument against my staying then?" and she folded her arms across her chest and waited for his reply.

Jamie, careful to keep his face stoic, watched with pure joy, as his Sassenach proceeded to ripped Randall apart, limb from limb.

"Now Claire..."

"Don't you _Dare '_ Now Claire' me like we are married. How dare you Frank. Please, let me hear just one of your _reasons_ why I should no longer be with Jamie. Just one, Frank."

"Because I love you Claire." He stated clearly and with no hesitation. Words he should have spoken out loud for years and never had, because deep down in the pit of his stomach, he knew she did not return that love. He had never forced his point because he never wanted her to utter the rejection that he was always sure would follow. Claire and he had not one tenth of the connection she and the Highlander had with each other; clearly obvious to all that first night. Jamie would lay down his life for her. Frank had seen that in his face the moment he drew his sword to protect her that first night in her flat. He had seen it in his face again today, when Jamie handed him the boy and dog and turned and ran. Frank could never do that. He loved her but would never defend her to his death. Jamie would, without hesitation. He also realized that Jamie accepted Claire for who she was, as an equal, flaws and all. He didn't. He was constantly trying to manipulate and change her into his idea of what a wife should be. Did that mean he did not love her? No, only that he love her enough or the way Claire needed to be loved. Jamie did, without question.

Jamie had his back to them, bent over stoking the fire when Frank made his declaration. He immediately stood and turned, waiting to see what the pronouncement would produce.

Claire took a deep breath. She had not expected a confession of such magnitude. She had known, almost forever, how Frank felt about her, how could she not. But she had managed to keep him from ever declaring it; from bringing it out into the light and having to deal with it. She did not love him, never had. She never returned even a portion of the feelings she knew he felt for her. She sighed and took a step toward Frank, but the spark of hope that lit in his eyes, when she moved toward him, made her turn and walk to Jamie. Frank needed to see, that even his announcement did not dissuade her feeling toward Jamie, in the least.

Jamie had watched quietly. First Claire, to watch her glass face confirm what he already knew. She felt nothing but a friendship toward the man. Never anything more. Then to Frank, with maybe a wee bit of pity for the man. The look on Frank's face as Claire had moved toward him, perhaps to comfort him. The hope that had instantly appeared in Randall's eyes as she took that first step toward him, that saddened into realization when Claire came to him instead.

Claire was truly extraordinary. Every man that spent any time in her company, fell in love with her, they could no help themselves. She had a way about her, a presence. She drew men in like moths to a flame. Daft as the idea was, she did'na even ken she did it. Claire was no aware of the effect she had on them. But by the Grace of God, her heart belonged to him. He would never forget that, never take it for granted.

He stood up and with Claire's hand in his, he walked to Frank. Jamie watched fear pulse in Frank's eyes as he carefully tracked their approach. Randall's eyes then shifted toward the two doors as he calculated the possibility of a successful escape, unscathed. By the time the mathematics had been done, Jamie was standing in front of the man. He placed a hand on Randall's shoulder and felt the shudder coarse through the wee coward. He had tried to like Randall and where he did esteem Frank, much like he did his Uncle Colum, he did no trust him, much like he did'na his Uncle Dougal. Even now, with his confession out in the open, he did'na trust Frank not to try and play his hand again. Frank Randall was no an honorable man, Jamie decided and he best remember that.

"Frank," Jamie began with a tone of authority. "I respect ye for the truth ye just laid at my lady's feet. To do so in my presence, is admirable. You ken the truth now, what is in her heart and I ask ye to honor that. I do no wish to have this conversation betwixt us again. Are my wishes understood?"

Frank swallowed hard and nodded.

"Then we shall 'let bygones be bygones' and no speak of it again, aye" and Jamie extended his hand in friendship.

Frank took it and they shook.

"Good." Jamie said. "Now I think this understanding we have reached needs a toast, no? I think there is whiskey in the parlor. We can wait there for Murtagh and John to return, then we have a kitchen to set to rights or, I fear, there will be no breakfast for us tomorrow."

"Damn right" Claire responded and allowed Jamie to lead her to the parlor.


	29. Chapter 29 - Driving 101

Je Suis Prest – Driving 101

Clan Fraser woke early the next morning. Jamie and Murtagh expressed a strong desire to have a driving lesson before heading back to the Macvey's, and Frank, ever a wise man, took their mutual expression seriously.

"No more lectures, Randall" Murtagh said firmly over breakfast. "I want to actually make the truck move."

"Drive." Frank corrected.

Both Murtagh and Jamie glared at Frank with a look that told Frank not to trifle with their request.

"Leave the dishes te soak, Sassenach. Come watch Murtagh and I drive for the first time."

Claire's face crinkled with amusement. Jamie and Murtagh were like small children eagerly waiting their turn to ride the pony. She most definitely did not want to miss the grand event so she topped her cup of tea off and followed them outside. She and John took up front row seats on the front steps. Frank pulled the truck around and parked in the yard right in front of the stoop, turning off the engine when he did. Jamie, excited to begin, hopped in behind the wheel. Murtagh climbed in beside him. Both had huge grins plastered on their faces that made Claire and John laugh out loud.

Jamie's face turned somber as he watched Claire and John roll with mirth.

"Not at you Jamie. Honest." Claire tried to defend herself. "You and Murtagh just look so happy and excited. We naturally think your exuberance is, well, it's rather cute." She tried to utter with a straight face, and failed miserably. "It's fun to see you and Murtagh so excited to learn something that Frank, John and I take for granted. We've forgotten the thrill of it, is all. It's wonderful to experience it again, through you."

"Yes," John added. "Live'n on the farm, I've been drive'n since I was old enough to touch the pedals and see over the steering wheel. I agree with Claire, 'tis cute to see ye so enthusiastic about the lessons."

"Cute? I do'na wish to be seen as cute when I am driving." Jamie retorted.

Frank cleared his throat, as a way to interrupt the banter. All eyes moved to him. "A review first." Frank said. "There are three pedals. Which is the accelerator?" Mutagen and Jamie both pointed to the one on the left.

"No. From right to left it is Accelerator... Clutch... Brake. Go and stop are on the outside, shift is in the middle." Frank then opened the truck door. "Depress the clutch and show me the shift pattern please, Jamie."

"I step on the middle pedal. I grab the handle, find neutral the pull it toward me and up for First gear then I ..."

"No Jamie, yer wrong. Toward ye and up is te go backwards. Toward ye and down makes the truck go forward. We are never gon'na move this metal beast at this rate."

Murtagh climbed out of the truck and sat down on the steps next to Claire. "Did ye pour any whiskey in yer tea by chance?" He asked and wagged an eyebrow at her.

"No but I should have." Claire said. "It would dull the pain of listening to Professor Randall repeat the lesson for the third time. I don't think you or Jamie are going to learn to drive before Frank and I leave tomorrow at this rate." She said with a sigh. "You really need to learn. John should not be driving yet."

"I do not feel comfortable driving distances Claire, but I can certainly run into town to pick up nails from the hardware store or bread from the grocer." John defended.

"I repeat. You should not be driving John. Jamie and Murtagh should be driving by now, so that your only job would be to navigate for them. I'll be right back," Claire said and she went up the stairs and back into the house. She found the bottle of whiskey they kept in the parlor and poured a hefty dollop into her mug. Just as she reached the door, she spied Frank's keys to the roadster on the table by the phone. She did not even need to think about it. She grabbed the keys and headed out the door. She set her cup down on the step next to John and nudged Murtagh's shoulder as she continued down the steps and headed toward the car. Frank had backed into the far corner of the yard. She was rounding the back of the truck when she looked back at Murtagh, still sitting by John on the steps, sipping from her cup. She held up the car keys and jangled them a bit. Murtagh and John both look up and then at each other. Both smiling. John pushed Murtagh and nodded his chin toward Claire. Murtagh stood up and followed her, handing John the cup as he did.

"Alright" Claire said as they approached the car. "Just a few differences between the roadster and the truck. First, the car's stick shift is on the floor not on the steering wheel column. The gear pattern is the same." She smiled at Murtagh, opened the passenger door and climbed in. Murtagh ran around the car and climbed in behind the wheel.

"This is the stick" Claire said and placed her finger on the gear shift between the two bucket seats. Murtagh placed his hand on it and Claire put hers on top of his. "Depress the clutch pedal all the way to the floor. Good. Now, here is neutral" and she moved their hands and the stick from side to side … toward my seat and forward is reverse and neutral and then back is first gear." She instructed as she moved their joined hands. "Do you feel that?"

"Aye" Murtagh said and grinned like a lad in a candy store.

"Now... this is second" and she moved their hands, along with the stick back to neutral and then over toward Murtagh and forward.

Murtagh laughed.

"And this is third" she moved the stick to neutral and then back. "Now, I want you to to put the car in first."

Murtagh had no problem.

"Now, second... and now third. That's wonderful Murtagh. Once the car is started, when you start to drive, you need to release your left food off the clutch, while at the same time begin to gently press your right foot down on the gas. She raised her hands and simulated it in the air.

Murtagh nodded his head and Claire watched as he moved his feet.

"That's perfect" She said. "Now shift into second by doing the reverse. Ease up on the gas by lessening the pressure on the gas pedal while you depress the clutch. When your foot is completely off the gas and the clutch is completely depressed, move the stick into second gear." The gears made a grinding noise.

"Ooch" Murtagh exclaimed as he made a pained, wincing face.

"No, no. It's fine, Murtagh. You will do it a couple of times in the beginning. You will most probably stall out as well. That's part of the initiation of learning to drive" she said and laughed. "That, and it's Franks car, so we won't tell him" and she winked.

"Stall oot?"

That's when you do not press on the gas hard enough while you release the clutch so the engine stalls. Dies. Stops working because it did not get enough gas."

"Aye." Murtagh said with a knowing nod. "What's the second difference?"

"The car needs a key" and she dangled them in the air. "The truck doesn't. It is a push button start."

Murtagh took the keys from Claire and she reached over and pointed to the key slot on the right side of the dash. "The key slips in there. Don't turn it yet, please."

A couple of tries and Murtagh slipped the key into place. He turned and looked at her.

"The third difference is that this car has a manual choke." Claire said and pointed to a little metal knob on the dash, just left of the steering wheel. "The truck doesn't have one."

"A choke?" Murtagh questioned.

"Well," Claire said. "It is a sport car, so it likes to go fast and that means it has a fussy engine. So on a cold start, meaning when you start it for the first time in the day, you need to help the engine receive the correct amount of fuel. The truck does it automatically."

"I do'na understand." Murtagh said looking confused.

"Well, it may be easier to physically start the car to show you, then." Claire said. "First the choke... you want to pull the knob all the way out.."

Murtagh did as instructed.

"Now, you need to prime the engine. Depressing the gas pedal half way, twice, slowly."

Murtagh did so.

"Make sure the car is in neutral... good and turn the key." The car roared to life. "Now we need to let the car engine warm up for a minute so we will keep adjusting the choke, like so." Claire pushed the choke button in, just slightly until the engine was running smoothly.

At this point Frank's head shot out of the truck and looked directly at Claire...

Claire looked up and waved. Murtagh was beaming with both hands gripping the steering wheel and turning it like he was driving. She couldn't help but giggle at him. "Now you want to continue adjusting the choke, to keep the engine idling smoothly until the choke is fully depressed. When the choke is completely depressed, the engine is warm and we are ready to drive. Do you remember where the break is?"

Murtagh nodded.

Frank stepped away from the truck, hand still on the open door. "Claire? What are you doing?"

Claire waved at Frank again. "So the right foot is responsible for the accelerator, and the left foot works the clutch and the break. Alright?"

Murtagh nodded enthusiastically. He was so excited he could hardly keep from honking the horn.

"Well, then lets see how you do. Depress the clutch, find first gear. Good. Now ease up on the clutch while you press down on the gas..."

And suddenly the car lurched forward. The car was moving. They were driving. They passed the truck, and continued toward the gate.

"Hey" Frank shouted as he watched his car drive passed.

"Why is Murtagh already driving and I have not even started the damn truck?" Jamie demanded. "We should be drive'n as well."

Claire turned around, raised her hands and shrugged her shoulders. She had just enough time to blow a kiss to Jamie as Murtagh drove out the gate, onto the road and turned right, away from Broch Mordha. The last thing Claire saw was John standing on the steps, toasting them _bon voyage_ with her whiskey laden tea.

Murtagh was doing quite well. The lane they were on was not well traveled and Murtagh was still in first gear so they weren't going more than 20mph. Claire was a little concerned with the death grip Jamie's godfather had on the wheel, but other that that he was doing fine.

"Do you want to try second gear?

Murtagh emphatically shook his head no. "No. No, we're fine. I'm already going faster in this carriage than I have on any horse I've ever ridden."

Well at least he was driving, she thought. Several minutes passed, in quiet, while Murtagh concentrated on driving. Claire finally asked, "Since we are alone, where did you and John scamper off to last night? You left Frank and Jamie to clean the entire kitchen. You all made quite a mess and I don't think they were very happy to be left alone in each others company while they scoured."

"John and I went to visit a widowed lady friend of his." Murtagh said with a smile.

"Oh?" Claire said knowingly.

"No oh, Claire. Nothing so bold as that. Mary MacNab explained she's been a widow since before the war. Her husband died in a fire. Fell asleep smoke'n in bed while Mary and her boys were away visit'n her mother in Falkirk. She's been hard pressed to make ends meet ever since. Been live'n at the Bed and Breakfast in town, in exchange for cleaning and cooking for the woman that runs it.

"Oh? Is that a fact?" Claire said coyly.

"Do'na start yer matchmake'n woman. ' Tis no like that. Ye ken John needs help, and that Jamie and I can'na look after John and the farm both. And with ye going back to Inverness..."

"You know I don't..."

"Aye, I ken lass. I do. Jamie says ye gave ye word to yer friends at the hospital that ye would work so they could be with their families over the Yuletide. He said ye promised a while ago, 'afore we came. Jamie kens ye must keep yer word." Murtagh looked at her briefly.

"Keep your eyes on the road, mister." Claire said sternly.

"Aye, Professor Beauchamp" Murtagh said with a smile.

"So why the visit to the Widow MacNab then, Murtagh?"

"Weel, John asked her to come work for him at Lallybroch. Said he'd fix up rooms on the third floor for her and her lad Rabbie. Free room and board, and a small wage if she'll cook and clean, wash and mend, and if yer in accord, te stay and help ye when ye return. Said Rabbie would be given some chores to do as well, maybe yers for now and we promised to figure 'oot a way te get him to and from school."

"What a marvelous idea. What did she say?" Claire asked excitedly.

"She could'na say _yes_ fast enough." Murtagh said a small turn of his mouth. It was clear to Claire he was pleased. "We'll go into town so ye can meet her if ye'll tell me how te turn the horseless carriage around, Claire."

"Oh, I'd like that. Lets do. Turn left into the next lane. Then stop. I'll teach you how to make a 'Y' turn."

Murtagh slowed and used the proper hand signals Frank had taught him. He turned onto the land then stopped. The car stalled.

"Remember, put the car in neutral before you come to a complete stop or keep the clutch pedal depressed." Claire reminded him. "Start the car."

Murtagh reached for the choke.

"No, no. You don't need to use the choke now that the engine is warm." Claire reminded him. "Only when the engine is cold, remember?"

Murtagh put the car in neutral and started it.

"Now," Claire said. "Find reverse. You are going to back up so you'll need to look behind you to make sure you don't hit anything and to watch for other vehicles, people or animals.

Murtagh nodded and stalled.

"No worries. Try again. You are doing very well, Murtagh. Honest."

Murtagh got them back on the road and headed back toward Broch Mordha after stalling only one more time. Before Claire knew it, they were approaching Lallybroch. Murtagh beeped the horn as they drove passed.

"You are enjoying this aren't you?"

"Aye. 'Tis no often I ken do some'thin 'afore Jamie does. He's a grand lad, but he can be a trifle annoying, besting everyone at everythi'n."

"You'll never let him forget it, will you." Claire said with a laugh.

"No a chance." He said and smiled. "Now, that I have ye alone, lass Any chance ye want te tell me what yesterday afternoon was all about? Jamie and I worked next te Beval Keir all morn'n. Seem'd a pleasant enough fellow."

"I have no idea, Murtagh. I just know Mr. Keir frightened Fred half to death. Made the boy panic just to see him. Fred was so scared, he was shaking and the pup, Brom, did not care for him one bit, either. Kept growling at him."

"Jamie and I are of the suspicion that he was focused on yoo, no the lad..."

"I thought he had come to talk to Fred, at least at first, Murtagh. He spoke as if he and Fred knew each other. Clearly Fred's fear confirmed that. But when Fred was safely away, Mr. Keir mentioned my being married to Frank. He actually seemed confused when he discovered my name was Beauchamp and not Randall, though not surprised that Jamie and I were together, which seems a bit odd, I think."

"Thought you and Randall were wedded?" Murtagh said out loud, almost as if talking to himself. "That's when he disappeared. When Frank showed up look'n for ye. Said he'd lost ye. Jamie and I had just seen ye go'n into the barn with the lad." Murtagh said and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. "Jamie and Frank got into a heated discussion 'bout Frank's negligence at loosen ye, when we noticed that Beval was already up at the barn. Jamie was no happy about how quickly the man went from where we were stand'n, work'n on the shed, to the main barn. We barley had time to blink."

"Well, Mr. Keir certainly gave me the willies, that's for sure. I'm not sure I want to meet with him again any time soon." Claire said as Murtagh pulled in front of the B & B.

"Well, Jamie no wants ye anywhere near 'em either. I do'na care for the comment about how he could just reach 'oot and take ye. And ye sure ye do'na ken them, any of them, lass?"

"I have a funny feeling that I should know them, all of them but I don't. I have the distinct feeling that he felt the same strange connection, the woman certainly did. You should have seen the shock on her face when Beval spoke of _The Holy Grail._ Almost like she thought I had something to do with it. _"_

"No. I was thinking the connection was the talk of someone looking for Claire Randall. That our friend Beval Keir was hired to find her. Why would someone think ye were married to Randall? What is _The Holy Grail_ Beval referred to?"

"I don't have any idea, other than it is supposedly the challis that Jesus drank from at the last supper. Jamie and I spoke about it for a while last night. It's all very strange. I wish I had answers but I don't" Claire said shaking her head. "Now come, introduce me to Mary MacNab and then we'd better get back to Lallybroch. Jamie will be worried and you all have to get to the Macvey's."

"Ye mean we, didn't ye?" Murtagh said with eye brows knitted in confusion.

"No. I told Jamie last night that I thought my time might be better spent at the farm. I need to do laundry for you and Jamie. I need to get some meals prepared, so all you need to do is heat them up, though if Mary is to stay... Frank said I could use the roadster to run into town for supplies..."

"Claire... why? Is it because of the Keirs or the women? I did no see ye for be'n a coward and hid'n from yer troubles. I thought ye were made of stouter stuff'n than that, lass. Ye do no need protect'n, do ye?"

Claire gave Murtagh a look and said, "Let's meet Mary, shall we?" She opened the car door and walked toward the B&B. This was a wonderful idea of John's. If John was happy with her, then she was sure she would be as well. To have someone that would do the cooking, some general cleaning and keep an eye on John, would be an enormous relief to her. She was not excited about the seven weeks absence but it had to be done. At least she would not have to worry about her men with Mary to look after them.

Murtagh opened the door to the establishment and they walked inside.

* * *

When Murtagh pulled the roadster into Lallybroch's yard, they found the yard empty and the truck parked right where they had left it, almost an hour ago.

"Tisk, tisk" was the sound that came from Murtagh as he parked the car. "I think someone might be in a wee bit of trouble" and he glanced at Claire.

"Oh, don't worry Murtagh." Claire stated with confidence. "Have no fear. I will explain that I took the keys so you could practice on the roadster while you waited for your turn. Frank will understand that it was not our intention to move the car, let alone leave the yard. You just got caught up in the thrill of the moment, is all.

Murtagh's face went from calm concern to one of shocked confusion in an instant.

"Whaaattt?" Claire slowing inquired.

"Oh lass." Murtagh began. "I do'na think it is me that is the one in trouble..." He shook his head slowly side to side.

"Who theennn...?" Claire started. "What? You think Frank will be angry with me?" Claire pointed her index finger at herself. "Whatever for? What did I do?" She questioned.

"Ye taught me te drive. That was Frank's job." Murtagh stated succinctly. "Three lectures with Frank and Jamie and I had no even started the damn truck. 10 minutes with you and I was drive'n. And not only that, but ye used his fancy carriage te teach me." Mutagh declared and raised both eyebrows at her. "No to mention, ye brought it back dirty."

"Dirty? Me? You drove" She practically screamed. But, I … "

"But it is'na Frank that I would be concerned with..."

"Who then?"

"Jamie."

"Jamie?"

"Yes, Jamie."

"No, Jamie..."

"Aye, Jamie"

"But you said..."

Aye, I did." Murtagh said as he handed Claire the keys and climbed out of the roadster. "Does no mean he won't be angry or hurt. You helped me best 'em. Jamie will no be take'n that so well. Ye've scorned the lad, Claire."

"Why didn't you..."

"Because I wanted to be first remember? I told ye that." Murtagh smiled and strolled off toward the house.

"Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser... you best watch what you eat tonight. I might slip you a poisonous tomato..."

Murtagh reached the door before Claire and held it open for her to enter. They crossed the threshold and found the house as silent as a tomb.

"I'm using the loo before we go" and Murtagh ran up the stairs.

"Hello the house" Claire called as she set the keys down on the table by the door. Not a sound. She walked to the stairs to see John descending. He gave her a big smile. "So how did Murtagh do?" he asked as he nodded his head up the stairs. "He was in too big a hurry to tell me."

"I think you will be in good hands with him. He drove the roadster like an old lady. You'll crawl like a snail in the truck. He took a good half hour just to get to Broch Mordha. Time how long it takes you to get to the Macveys. My money is that it will take Murtagh an hour" and she laughed.

"It's only fifteen minutes to Broch Mordha and thirty to the Macveys. Are you say'n to double the time if Murtagh's drive'n, lass?"

"Better than Frank's speeding." Claire said and laughed again. Speaking of Frank, it doesn't look like the truck has moved. Please tell me Jamie had gotten to drive as well. Murtagh said Jamie will be upset that Murtagh drove before Jamie did."

"Aye, well, when the roadster drove passed, honking the horn, yer lad climbed 'oot of the truck and walked off to the barn. Did'na utter a single word. I have no seen him since nor have I heard a word from Frank though I believe Frank's in the Lairds Study."

"Well, I better go find Jamie" and Claire started for the kitchen. She stopped and turned back to John. "I won't be going to the Macveys with you all today. I've decided to stay here at Lallybroch" and she turned back to the kitchen. She heard a shuffle of feet and then felt John's hand on her elbow. She stopped and turned around. The door to the study opened and Frank stepped out.

"What do ye mean ye won't be go'n today, Claire? John dropped his voiced and said, "Jamie will no go without ye, especially after what happened yesterday afternoon with the Keirs."

"I already spoke with Jamie last night and Murtagh this morning, John. I see no point in going. Really. My time is better spent here. I need to run into town, to the grocers, to stock the pantry. I need to run a load of wash and tidy up the house a bit before I leave..."

"Claire..." John started to argue.

"No John. My mind is made up. I see no point. I will try again when I come back after Christmas." Claire said with a sigh. "Jane is a possible friend. And Mary, Mary MacNab. Oh, I do like her, John. She will do nicely here for you three. She was a wonderful idea. Which reminds me, I'll need to clean two rooms on the third floor for Mary and her son..."

"When did you meet her?" John inquired.

"Murtagh told me, on our little drive, about what you two were up to last night. That's where we were headed when we drove passed. She was extremely busy so we did not stay long, but she seems very pleased with your offer. I invited she and Rabbie to supper tonight. So be back from the Macveys at a decent hour please. I know how Jamie likes to stay and talk."

"Claire, I wish ye'd change yer mind and come..." John said with hope.

Claire shook her head and entered the kitchen. She decided she would do the breakfast dishes after the men left so she grabbed a couple of carrots and a handful of sugar cubes and headed for the barn. She paused to feed and scratch Donas, the other two horses never showed up. She entered the barn and found Jamie brushing the horse they had ridden back to Lallybroch that first night of her return.

* * *

She stopped at the door and after watching Jamie for a moment, cleared her throat. Jamie hesitated for brief second and then continued as if there had been no sound at all. If Claire had blinked, she would have missed Jamie's acknowledgment of the sound.

"May I come in?" Claire asked.

Jamie stopped his work. Waited a second and then said, "So ye and Murtagh are back then. Did ye enjoy yer drive through the country?"

"Jamie..." Claire started. "You know it wasn't like that."

Jamie's head dropped to rest on the neck of the horse, his arm, still holding the brush, draped over the animal's back. He rubbed his forehead back and forth against the animal's coat. His two fingers druming away on his thigh.

Thinking. She could tell he was trying to find the right words. She would wait. Give him time.

Finally he lifted his hand and rested it on the horse's muzzle, running it up and down the animal's white blaze. The horse nickered in appreciation.

Claire took a step forward, rustling the hay as she walked. Jamie stopped moving and stiffened. She stopped. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked softly.

Jamie turned, hand still on the back of the animal, leaning his weight into it's side. "No, Claire. I've been out here brush'n the animal bald, trying to find the words te speak my mind, my heart te ya. I ken Murtagh would know I was upset and the why of it. I ken ye'd come te find me when ye returned."

"I'm sorry Jamie. It never occurred to me that I might hurt your feelings... teaching Murtagh to drive. The stinker knew too, but did not say a word to me about it until we parked the car in the yard." Claire said as she watched the hay on the floor as she moved it around with her foot. "I would never do anything to slight you, you know that, don't you?" and she looked up. Jamie let her see how hurt he was. It was clearly written on his face, in his eyes. Almost made her cry to see the pain she was responsible for. "Why?" she asked.

He set the brush down on the stall rail and took a step toward her. "Sassenach, you are mine. I am the man who will protect you, provide for you, love you. I had it in my heart to show you. To be the man you need me to be. But Murtagh has bested me in front of you, _My Lady_. He mastered the skill to drive first and took you for the ride that was mine by right. And you, Claire, you were the one that taught him." He turned back to the horse, grabbed the brush and with large, sweeping strokes he began to brush the animal's flank.

"Jamie. I didn't think... I didn't realize the significance of my action." She said with conviction. "Had I understood, I never would have shown Murtagh. I would have waited for you. Please believe that."

Jamie's furious movement stopped.

"You are mine as much as I am yours, Jamie" she whispered as she took a step toward him. "Please believe that I would never do anything to hurt you or cause you pain, not on purpose." She paused, wringing her hands to prevent herself from touching him. She would need him to touch her, to show her he forgave her. Until then she needed to keep her hands to herself. "I am struggling to understand your ways, your time, as much as you are struggling to understand mine. We will get it wrong sometimes, make mistakes. We just have to believe in each other, know and believe that our hearts are true, that nothing is done with the intent to slight the other."

Jamie turned and spoke the words she needed to hear... "I ken Sassenach. 'Tis what made it so painful. To see how verra proud of Murtagh ye were. Know'n it should have been me. Te have ye so proud of me..." He stopped and shook his heid in distain. "I am so vain. I'm truly sorry, Claire. I am a fool." He walked forward and gathered her into his arms and held her. Tightly.

After a moment or two, Claire pulled away. "Oh Jamie, I am so very proud of you. So lucky that you are so strong and honorable. Looking out for all of Broch Mordha like the Laird you were born to be." She took his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. "I only taught Murtagh because you were already in the truck and Professor Frank was into his lecture. Your godfather was so frustrated with Frank and, at the rate Frank was going, neither of you were going to learn before we needed to leave. John is in no condition to be driving so I did something about it. I honestly did not intend to let Murtagh physically drive, but one thing led to another and the next thing I knew we were leaving the yard and were on the road." She reached up and placed her hand on Jamie's cheek. "Please believe me."

He kissed her softly on the lips. "Aye, Mo Neighan Donn. I believe ye. Do yoo forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For being so jealous of my own godfather."

Claire laughed. "Jealous? Of Murtagh? What on earth for?"

"Because yoo, my bonnie lass, have won more than just my heart. You have Murtagh completely devoted to ye, do ye no realize? John as well, to say noth'n of Frank. And now I fear, Beval Keir may be in, how do you say it... _in the queue_?" And he gathered her back into his arms and gave her a kiss; verra long and verra hard.

When he finally released her, Claire said, "You need to get going. Seamus Macvey will _no like his Laird be'n late for the calf shed build'n._ "

"What was that Sassenach?"

"That was my impression of Seamus. _Did ye no ken?_ "

Jamie started to laugh.

"Just what is so funny?"

"Yoo. Your _Scots_ needs a bit of work, 'tis all, mo chridhe."

"Oh, so you don't think my _Scottish accient_ sounds real?"

"No, Sassenach. Yer _French_ is good. Yer _Latin_ is fair. Yer _Gàidhlig_ does'na exist but yer _Scottish accent_ would make a dog bark. 'Tis hurtful to the ears."

She smiled and giggled. "As bad as all that?"

"Aye."

"Well, you best put the horse in the paddock. John and Murtagh were ready to go when I left the house to find you."

"Oh, I'm no go'n to Macvey's. If yer stay'n than so am I."

"No, Jamie. This is important. You made it all happen for them. You must go..."

"I'll no have the women treating you badly, Claire. To disrespect yoo, is to disrespect me. I need for them to understand that. I choose you, Sassenach. We are handfast, yer are te be my wife. They have no cause to treat ye the way that they did yesterday. Not a friend among them. I have spoken to Murtagh. He kens. He will go today to represent Frasers and Lallybroch. And tomorrow, Sunday, Clan Fraser will all attend Father Brown's Service. The Frasers will do no more until the ladies ask forgiveness of ye Claire. I will no have you slighted."

"But Jamie... I don't think... It doesn't work like... I was going to try again when I return for good..."

"No Claire. 'Tis like ye said about the supper, I allowed them to treat ye that way by no do'n anythi'n. Well, I will no allow them to treat ye like ye do'na belong. It's all Frasers or none. John agreed."

"Just when did you have this little meeting?"

"While ye were have'n yer wee wash last night."

"Well, my men are cleaver, I will say that for the lot of you. And thank you." Claire stepped closer and kissed him. "Thank you for listening and for caring enough to do something about it, Jamie. Really. I know what this town means to you."

"That's why I am brush'n aulde Rob Roy here, and William Wallace is te be next. We are go'n for a ride. Ye did say ye could ride, can ye no Sassenach?"

"Yes, I can ride. Horses, camels and even an elephant."

"An elephant? Truly?"

"Yes."

Well, ye might want te pack us a wee lunch, I'll try and see if we can find some of the spots I ken as a lad. Bring a plaid as well. I'll saddle the horses."

Claire turned and walked toward the house. A huge smile on her face. Jamie loved her. He listened.


	30. Chapter 30 - The Calving Shed Day 2 pt1

Je Suis Prest – The Calving Shed Day Two Part I

Claire had finished the breakfast dishes and had started on the picnic lunch Jamie had requested. She found a basket in the scullery, wiped it down and placed a towel in the bottom. She had hard boiled a couple of eggs, found a jar of bread and butter pickles someone had put up and a couple of apples. She placed them in the basket along with four bottles of beer and her cream crackers. Her nausea had been getting worse. The smell of the boiling eggs had not helped. She kept a package of the crackers upstairs under her pillow and another in the pantry. Usually the mornings were the worst and Jamie was always up and gone before she rose with the first light. A couple of crackers, before she got out of bed, with the glass of water she brought up with her at night and she was good to go, as long as she was careful about what she ate throughout the day. This baby was already letting her know they did not much care for certain smells or meat. If she kept to steamed vegetables and plain toast, she'd be fine. So far Jamie seemed to be oblivious to her morning sickness.

She done the math and figured conception had been three weeks ago; their very first night together. The hospital required her to have missed two complete cycles before they would run the test and she knew her last cycle had been the week before her birthday. She had already missed one period, the week she and Jamie were separated. She would need to wait another four weeks. She was determined she would not tell Jamie until she was certain. If he asked, which he hadn't thus far, she would just tell him she had an upset stomach.

She was in the process of making bacon sandwiches for Jamie when Murtagh entered the kitchen. She discreetly placed a towel over the couple of crackers she had out on the table, that she had been nibbling on. She had just about lost it while she cooked the morning's bacon and her stomach was a little topsy-turvy over handling it again. The smell was nauseating but it was one of Jamie's favorites. As she wrapped one of the sandwiches in waxed paper, she asked "would you like one, Murtagh? I'm making a couple for Jamie and have plenty to make one for you."

Murtagh walked over and lifted the towel, uncovering the crackers. "Now what are ye eat'n them fer, Claire? Tasteless tack if ever there was any. Ye can'na tell me ye like 'em."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I... I eat them all the time... with my tea... instead of biscuits..." she managed to stutter out.

Murtagh leaned forward, hands on the back of the chair across the table from Claire. "Is that a fact? Like 'em ye say?" and he picked one up and popped the entire thing in his mouth. "Mmmmprhph" he managed to sputter out as he choked it down.

"What? Claire innocently asked.

He picked up one of the beers from the basket, opened it and drank half in one breath. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "Well, I can certainly see why ye eat them..." he said sarcastically. "Who would'n enjoy a hand full of those?" and he shook his head.

"Well... I happen to." Claire pronounced defensively, took a small bite of a cracker and then picked up her glass of tea.

"John says the only reason he kens anyone eats them is for an upset stomach," Murtagh said as Claire took a sip, and then added, "said his wife use to eat them all the time when she was with child. Ye would'n happen te be with bairn, now would ye, Claire?"

It was all Claire could do to prevent herself from spewing her tea as she choked. _Cough, cough, cough.. cough._ She shot him a look that could kill. _Cough_ "Pregnant?" _Cough_ "Who? Me?" _Cough Cough._

"Aye, lass. I'm talk'n to yoo. Are ye, perchance, with child?"

"Do I look pregnant, Murtagh?" She asked as she waved her hand over her stomach area. "Or are you just calling me fat?"

"No. Ye ken ye are no fat. And ye do'na look pregnant either. I'm ask'n because of the crackers you have been secretly eat'n since you've arrived. 'Matter of fact, I ken you brought the tasteless things with ye when ye came this visit, because no one here purchased any. Jamie says ye have another package tucked upstairs under ye pillow. Why would you have the foul things with ye unless ye were feel'n sick to your belly and if that was the reason, why would ye no tell us yer were no feel'n well?" Murtagh questioned her. "John says, for certain, it's a sign that a woman is in the family way."

"Oh, and is John suddenly an expert on pregnant women?" Claire snapped. Then sighed. "I'm sorry Murtagh, I did not mean to bite your head off just now. I just don't know. Even if I were, there would be no way to know, positively, without a test and it's too early to have one done." She replied and rubbed her belly. "I do not want to tell Jamie I might be pregnant only to have it turn out that I'm not. It would not be fair to him."

Claire heard the unmistakable sound of a throat being cleared behind her. She turned to find Jamie standing in the entry way from the scullery. She had been so engrossed in her conversation with Murtagh, she had not heard him come in from the yard. She pulled out a chair and sat down. From the look on his face, she knew he had heard the whole exchange.

Jamie said nothing as he walked into the room, pulled up a chair and sat down beside Claire. He took her small hand in his large one and just held it for a moment.

"I should have told you, Jamie."

"Aye." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist, at the base of her palm. Lightly.

Claire could not take her eyes off Jamie as he did. When their eyes met and he smiled his _Jamie the Charming_ smile, she turned red and looked to the floor for a moment. When she raised her head she said, "I guessed" and cleared her throat. "Before you went back to the stones I had a feeling I was. I was going to tell you the night before you and Murtagh were to leave, but then you told me I couldn't go with you and I became so angry... and I did not want the possibility of a baby to be the reason you stayed... or allowed me come with you... and you were so adamant about leaving... and I needed to be brave enough to let you go." Claire stopped and gasped for a breath and continued... "I wanted you to stay because you chose to, because you chose to be with me... Does that make sense?"

Jamie nodded his head, never taking his gaze from her face. His eyes darkening.

Claire lifted her hand, gently scratched his chin's morning stubble and returned Jamie's gaze.

"So, I don'na ken. Is Claire with bairn or no?" Murtagh interrupted.

Both Jamie and Claire turned to him in unison _,_ both having forgotten that Murtagh was even in the room, let alone sitting across the table from them.

"Please don't get all excited and your hopes up." Claire said emphatically. "I won't be far enough along to take the pregnancy test until just before I return in the New Year. I will have the hospital run the test and then we will know when I return. I promise I won't read the test results until we are altogether. Alright? You can keep quiet until then, yes?" Claire's eyes looked back and forth between the two of them.

One look at their faces and she knew they would not be able to keep their mouths shut. She quickly envisioned the next several weeks of Wednesday Night Gàidhlig lessons and the possible new vocabulary options in her head. "Jamie, you and Murtagh can not say anything to anyone, until we know for sure. Please." She implored. "I mean it. I don't want anyone to know that I might be pregnant before we are married, Jamie" she pleaded. "When I return, I will have the test results. If you want to tell people after that we need to be properly married first. Do you understand me, James Fraser? No one in this bloody town is to know I might be in the family way, until Father Brown has married us. In a church. With the banns read. The way _you_ insisted" and she thumped Jamie in the chest with her finger. "Swear to me that you will not tell anyone until I return."

"Swear Jamie won't tell anyone _what_ until you return, Claire?" John asked as he walked into the kitchen. "That you are pregnant?"

"How...?" Claire started to ask.

"The crackers, _a 'bhò_ (the cow whisperer). Dead give away" John replied before she could finish her question.

Both Jamie and Murtagh gave John a look.

" _A 'bhò?"_ Jamie repeated, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"What?" Claire asked looking at Jamie. " _bio_ means _life_ right?" Claire smiled at John.

"Aye" Jamie said, "That it does in Latin." _except the man was speaking Gàidhlig,_ he added under his breath.

"Finally! So do we ken when the wee lad will be born?" Murtagh asked look'n directly at Claire and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"If I am pregnant..." She began.

"Which ye are..." Jamie added with an equally large smile on his face. He placed his hand on her belly. "Though yer no so large as most of the lasses I've ken that were pregnant. I can hardly tell."

Claire gave Jamie a stare. "Three months before..." she muttered. "The baby will be..." She tried to complete her sentence.

"The lad..." Murtagh repeated.

"Or lassie" John added.

"Lad or Lassie? Oh, are we talking about the baby?" Frank asked as he entered the kitchen. Both he and John pulled up chairs and sat down at the table on either side of Murtagh.

Claire released an audible sigh and allowed her head to pitch forward. Her forehead thumped the table. "I hate all of you right now" she declared.

"Even me, Sassenach?" Jamie asked as he placed a kiss on the back of her head.

Claire, riding William Wallace, and Jamie, on Rob Roy, rode off through the cow pasture toward the hills of Jamie's youth. John, with Murtagh behind the wheel, left in the truck for the Macvey's. Frank volunteered to make the run to _The Green Grocer_ in town to pick up the items on the list Claire had made. Sunday, all the stores would be closed, so today was the last day to shop for basic supplies as well as the items Claire needed for tonight's dinner. Jenny honked goodbye as everyone left the yard in a variety of directions

A little over an hour later, Jamie helped Claire down from her horse. He hobbled both and then, basket and plaid in one hand and Claire's hand in the other, he steered her passed the rather large, very old, apple tree and onto a very worn path behind it. They climbed the hill slowly, Jamie being careful not to push Claire too hard. When they reached the top, Claire gasped. She found herself with a 360° view of Broch Mordha and the outlying area. She turned in a circle and took the entire landscape in. "Look Jamie," she gasped as she pointed. "It's The Broch Tuarach, the north facing tower of Lallybroch. What a view. Absolutely Amazing!"

"I ken Sassenach." Jamie said and grinned at Claire's enthusiasm.

"Oh Jamie. Spectacular. You can see for miles. How long have you known this was up here?"

"About 200 years." He said with a mischievous smile. "That apple tree was a great deal smaller the last time I climbed it. My mam and I use to come here. She loved this spot. Broch Mordha was not so large as it is now, ye ken, nor were there so many farms about, but ye understand what it was for me." Jamie came up behind her, encircled her waist with his arms and pulled her tightly against him. "All this," and he waved his hand to the left, "all of it was Lallybroch land, mostly tenants homes and farms. The mill, by the pond," and he pointed, "that was part of Lallybroch as well. I learned to swim in that pond. Willie, Jenny and I. Sometimes Angus, John's lad, would swim with us. My da had a wonderful dog. A large, brown and black beast, named Bran, that would run around the pond bark'n at us because he was afraid of the water and did'na like us be'n in it." Jamie laughed. "I will show all this to my son. When I explain to him about where I come from." He kissed the back of Claire's head. She turned in his arms to face him and he kissed her on the lips, long and lovingly. When the kiss ended, she rested her head against his chest and sighed as he tightened he hold on her once again.

"I was think'n, after we're married, Sassenach, if ye did no wish to live in the big house with John and Murtagh..."

"And Mary, if you three don't drive her away while I'm gone..."

"Aye, Mary and wee Rabbie... once the snows stop, I could begin repairs on one of the tenant cottages for us... te raise our family in. We'd be close enough te the main house to still help and maybe take some of our meals there. At night, we'd be alone, just you and I..."

"But the children" Claire said with a sigh. "I hate that we might not raise our children in the house that you grew up in. Though, I don't suppose either John or Murtagh would want to live with a newborn, let alone a toddler or several rambunctious small children in the house. To have our own home, for us and our family... Would you mind that too terribly? To raise our family somewhere besides Lallybroch?"

"It would still be Lallybroch, just no the main house. Ye ken I do'na mean to say it does'na matter to me, but for us to be together is more important to me than the house we raise them in. Where ever we are, will be our home, Sassenach, as long as we are together."

Claire kissed Jamie's chin and replied, "Do you want to talk to Murtagh and John about it first, before we decide?"

"Aye, Sassenach, a dozen wee bairn is a lot to ask even of Mary and Rabbie to share a house with, let alone two aulde, bachelors like John and Murtagh. Maybe we should ask John a'fore the rest of the house. After all, Lallybroch is his, by right and he has been verra generous to Murtagh and I... I would no want to impose on his kindness without ask'n him what his desires are first.

"Hummm, a dozen you say? I could live with that" and she kissed Jamie's neck where it met his jaw. Do you suppose Murtagh would continue to live at Lallybroch if we set up house elsewhere? You never know, Murtagh might want a small cottage to call his own. He and Mary seemed to be very chatty yesterday."

Jamie pulled back and looked down his nose at Claire's face full of mirth. 'Ye ken my godfather has never wedded, aye? None of yer womanly matchmake'n, ye need te leave him be, Sassenach."

"That doesn't mean he never wanted to marry, Jamie. Maybe he never met the right girl. Or maybe the girl he loved never loved him back." Claire said thoughtfully. "I won't push anything, Jamie. I promise. I'm just telling you what I saw with my own two eyes this morning."

"Weel, Sassenach... if ye want te see somethin'n with ye own two eyes, I might be able te help ye out..." and he raised an eyebrow at her, knowingly.

"Oh? Claire responded and cocked her head. "A little show and tell?"

"I do'na ken _a little show and tell..."_ Jamie started to say as Claire backed out of Jamie's arms a couple of steps, un-tucking her shirt as she moved.

"Oh, yoo show 'n I ken tell" and he bit his lower lip as he watched her. His eyes darkening with every step she took. "Perhaps I can help ye with the buttons..." and he walked toward her, with outreached hands, fingers wiggling with anticipation

Neither noticed the black wolf, hunkered down, watching, from the dense brush a mere eight yards from where they were standing.

 _Beval had waited in the brush on a small rise near Lallybroch's cemetery since late last night. It afforded him a good view of the main house without alerting that damn goose to his presence. He had stupidly approached the farm after dark to see if Claire_ _would_ _venture outside He had an uncontrollable desire to see her. The urge made him careless, less wary than he should have been. He had scanned the yard, smelled no dogs and approached the house without any further hesitation. That goose started a ruckus before he came anywhere close to the house. He was still trying to figure out where it had lay in waiting. He had been lucky, the farm truck pulled into the yard just as the breathing feather pillow sounded the alarm. The house must have assumed that the return of the old men was what the gander had alerted them to. It seemed no one notice that the bird had continued to honk at the yard wall at precisely the spot where he had cleared it when he exited hurriedly. No one the wiser to his visit. Claire had come outside with the others to welcome the two men back and had lingered on the back steps after everyone had gone back inside. In repose. Fraser had come back out to collect Claire before he even had time to work out how he would get down to her without the goose sounding the alarm again. Before Fraser turned to follow her back inside, Beval could swear the man looked right at him, like Jamie knew he was out there. Watching. Waiting._

 _While he waited for morning's light and the house to shake sleep from it's inhabitants, he relived the memory..._

 _His father and he had been traveling alone for awhile. They had left the gypsy caravan's protection. His new sister was stillborn and with the difficulty of the birth, his mother had met her own death as well. They had been traveling with his mother's people and even though the family told his father they would always have a home with them, the matriarch did not ask them to stay when his father told them they were leaving. Neither the gypsies nor their animals were comfortable having a shifter among them. His father's wolf form had always been an issue for his mother's people, even though they had reaped the benefits of his nightly hunts. With little sadness, they had left them at the base of the Northern Mountains in Turkey and headed South, perhaps into Damascus, his father had said. Or Lebanon and the Mediterranean Sea, to pick olives in the Fall. His father had helped him shift for the first time on their journey. "You're early," his father had said. "Usually shifting starts around the age of twelve." His father was teaching him to hunt when they had reached Göbeki Tepe (Potbelly Hill). There they discovered an archaeologist by the name of Quentin Lambert Beauchamp and his five year old niece, Claire._

 _Even in the dark cover of night, with only the stars as light, Claire had stumbled upon him while fetching water from a stream near camp. He had his first solo kill. He had caught a rabbit and was going to present it to his father. He had stopped at the stream to quench his thirst. She was on one side, he was on the other. In two quick bounds he had crossed the stream and stood before her. He was all of nine then and in full wolf form and she had shown no fear. She had simply waited as he set the rabbit at her feet. He then, laid down in front of her, his head up, ears and eyes alert. He waited to see what she would do. She set her water jug on the ground next to the rabbit and knelt in front of him. One hand, she rested on her thigh and other she extended, palm up, toward him. She could have easily reached him but she stopped half way, allowing him to smell her appendage first. Her scent was light, most probably because she was young. He lowered his head and allowed her to pet him. He, to this day, has never been able to rationalize why he had permitted her to touch him like that on their first meeting, almost like he knew she owned him. Two weeks later he knew it was because he loved her. He heard his father howl and he had leapt to his paws. He crossed the stream at a run, not bothering to leap. Once on the other side he stopped and turned to look at the enchantress. She was still kneeling where he had left her but holding his rabbit up by the ears... He'd forgotten his first kill. He bowed to her then turned and ran off._

He had spent the morning observing. He was still trying to process why neither Fraser could drive a motor vehicle. Certainly odd. When the lessons ended, he had expected them to all go back to the Macveys except Claire, but Jamie Fraser had stayed behind and brought her here. The top of what the locals called Box Hill.

Murtagh parked the truck in the Macvey yard.

John climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Murtagh. If ye had drive'n any slower, we'd have been parked. I think I saw a rabbit with a broken leg pass us."

Murtagh laughed. "I got ye here, didn't I? Safe and sound" he said as he adjusted his dirk and they walked toward the pasture where the men were gather'n. Last night, while Claire was have'n her wee soak, Jamie had John, Frank and he all meet in the kitchen to devise this plan. How to correct the town's exclusion of Claire. It had been decided since these were John's friends and acquaintances they were about to confront. John would ken how best to handle the conversation that needed to take place. Murtagh was to come along and be John's second, to help when needed.

John had decided it best to speak to the men and no the women, even though it was the women that were give'n Claire the rough go. They all agreed that the men were much more rational and level heided. They would understand and see the issue at hand and gladly help repair the riff. The men ken Claire, she was no stranger te them. She had sat amongst them yestereday afternoon, give'n every male ample opportunity to talk with her. Jamie had strategically placed her next to the water bucket and just about every male work'n that afternoon found a reason to have a chat with the Sassenach while they quenched their thirst. The lass had her healers box with her and had managed to dig a few splinters free as well as tend to their _numerous_ cuts and scrapes. There were a great many clot-heids among them yesterday, Murtagh thought. More than half the men left that afternoon, with a white bandage of some sort wrapped around an arm, a leg or hand.

The four of them all ken Claire would no return to the barn raise'n today. She had'n said anythi'n to anyone except Jamie, until this morning, but they all ken last night. Know'n that, they had decided Jamie should no return to Macvey's today, until the afternoon. "Spend some time with the lass 'afore she leaves and let the dolts at Macvey's realize just how much ye've done," John said. "Let it sink in just how important to the community you've become, in the short time ye've been here; just what a natural leader ye are."

It took some work, but Jamie had agreed, quite quickly, when John pointed out that if Jamie came to the Macvey's, Claire would be left alone at Lallybroch with only Jenny to protect her. The Keirs still fresh in everyone's mind.

When Murtagh and John walked through the gate into the pasture, Seamus called 'oot "Where's our fearless leader?"

"Jamie is home at Lallybroch, with Claire." John said nonchalantly. "The ladies, it seems, did'na desire the lass's help yesterday, so Claire thought it was best she stay home and keep oot of everyone's way today. Jamie, no want'n to leave his lass at Lallybroch alone, made the decision te stay home with her."

"Oh?" Seamus said. "Is that a fact? The lass was certainly a help te me yesterday. Saved me an hour's work fetch'n the coo's like she did, though I think aulde Jack here," and he placed his hand on his border collie's head, "was a bit confused as to no have'n to work for his supper yesterday" and he laughed.

"I believe Claire said somethin'n about catch'n up on some wash, cleaning the house and cook'n some meals for us before she goes back to Inverness tomorrow," Murtagh added.

"Go'n back? Where's she go'n?" Rabbie Macvey asked. "I was look'n forward to converse'n with her again."

"Converse'n, aye? Flirt'n is more like it" Duncan MacLeod said. "Best be careful. Jamie will no like ye fer that. The bonnie healer is his, ye ken, Rabbie. Ye best keep yer flirt'n to Mortag's friend Laoghaire Mackenzie. She's plenty bonnie enough fer ye."

They all laughed at the rub.

John cleared his throat and began to re-direct the conversation again. "Claire was say'n over breakfast, how much she's enjoyed life on the farm but she did no find herself fit'n in with the Broch Mordha community yesterday. The lass didn'a think that we want her here, that she has no use. If she does'na find any work here, why would she leave a life and a job where she is?" John emphased. "My health, the way it is, would benefit greatly have'n her here in Broch Mordha. Certainly yesterday was an example of just how fortuitous it would be to have a person in the medical profession living among us. I have already asked Jamie and Murtagh about stay'n on permanently, even if my health improves. I can'na run the farm alone any more. Jamie was say'n how his home is where ever Claire is."

"What is that nonsense?" Michael McMahon spoke up. He placed an hand on Aiden Grants shoulder so that he would also stop talking and listen to what was being said.

"I was just say'n to Seamus that I suppose when I get my health back, that Jamie will go back to Inverness te be with Claire since the lass does no feel verra welcome here by the women folk."

"Aye, and Claire and Jamie were going to have Father Brown wed them when the lass returned at Yuletide. But she's a healer, she needs to be help'n others. To serve her cause." Murtagh added.

John gave Murtagh a look that told him to be quiet and let him do the talking. They had the men right where they wanted them, sympathetic to Claire's plight.

"'Tis a shame, truly," He continued. Jamie was say'n te me just this morning, during chores, that Claire wished they could stay; te raise their family here.

John knocked Murtagh in the shoulder with his hand. "When they are married and ready to start one that is," John quickly added. "Absolutely no hanky-panky go'n on under ma roof. No sir." He, once again, shot Murtagh a look that said _Be Quiet._

The men all looked at each other and then Hamish Rose, a sheep farmer from the next village said "Well, if Broch Mordha has no need of a healer," and he looked around at almost a dozen men with bandages of some sort on their arm or leg "then perhaps my town of Dingwall might could use one. As to Jamie, I am quite sure I could find work for James Fraser at my place, until he found a place of his own." He nodded his head at John.

William MacDonald, the President of the Scottish Highland Society, cleared his throat to quiet the disgruntled crowd. "I can speak for ma town of Nairn. We could use a trained Nurse like Miss Beauchamp. I had an informative conversation with Jamie's lass yesterday. We spoke of starting a Women's Clinic in our town. We have need of one. The idea was well received by both she and Jamie. There is old man Campbell's place that's up for sale. I offered to help Jamie purchase it, in any way that I could. So you get on with let'n your ladies have their way. Between ma Janet and Hamish's Kathy, we'll steal Claire, Jamie and Murtagh right 'oot from under ye." He smiled at the crowd, large teeth showing. "Now lets get te work on the shed Mr. Fraser so kindly gathered us here te build, aye? See if we can'na finish it today" and he removed his jacket, laid it on the stone wall and walked toward the shed, rolling his sleeves up as he walked. John, Murtagh and Hamish following right behind him, leaving the rest staring dumbfounded at them, mouths agape.

If Murtagh or John had turned around they would have seen the disapproval on the face of Jane Macvey. She was sitting on the wall with arms folded, watching and listening. John Murray and Murtagh Fraser had the right idea, they were just going about it all wrong, she thought to herself. The basic plan was a good one. Just focused on the wrong group. She needed to have a wee chat with the misguided fools. She wanted Claire to stay as much as they did, apparently. A progressive woman like Claire would not come along to their tiny, unsophisticated, and uneducated, village every day. And Claire wanted to stay, to make it her home. Their plan could still work, if she could just implement some changes to it. She hopped down and followed her quarry.

Claire squealed as Jamie grabbed her. He leaned in to kiss her, as his fingers worked the buttons of her plaid, flannel shirt, when he thought he heard a growl. He stopped and listened. Body tense.

Noth'n.

Claire stepped back and playfully unbuttoned the top two buttons and opened the collar and exposed her throat. The movement drew Jamie's full attention back to her and he took another step forward. A large, ground eating step. Jamie fumbled with the buttons again as he kissed her.

She stepped back, playfully slapping his hands away and unbuttoned another, exposing part of her breasts.

"Are ye no wear'n yer wee breast corset, Sassenach?" His eyes totally focused on her chest.

"Eyes up here," Claire said. She snapped her fingers in his face to get his attention. She unbuttoned another button. "Show and Tell, remember?"

"Oh aye, Sassenach. I remember." He took another step, and quick as a snake, his hand reached out, grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

Claire squeaked.

Jamie froze. It was a growl. Most definitely. He heard it again, clearly. Coming from behind him.

"What, Jamie?" Claire asked as she noticed Jamie's buoyant demeanor suddenly go rigid with concern.

"Shush, Sassenach. Stay behind me." He turned, his hand slipped to his dirk hilt. He did not usually wear it any longer. There seemed to be no need, in this time. But last night he had a feeling that something had been watch'n them. No, watch'n Claire. That Jenny was not sounding the alert because of the truck's return. He had looked up the rise, past the yard wall and thought for a moment he had seen a pair of yellow eyes look'n down on them. He decided it was no but an aulde barn owl, if anythi'n. He just had a feel'n in his gut was all. That gut instinct had saved him once or twice, he reminded himself as he rub the scare on the back of his head. He had decided, at the last minute, to carry his dirk today, when he saw his Godfather put his on. Now he had that feel'n again and he was glad he had it on him. He took a step forward. "Is someone there?" He asked.

The brush in front of him moved.

He felt Claire's hand grab the back of his jacket. He reached back and felt for her arm. Finding it, he grabbed it tightly. "Stay here. Do'na move unless I tell ye to" and he gave her arm a shake. "When I tell ye to run, go, as fast as ye can, back to the horses. Free one and flee. To the nearest farm and do'na look back, aye?" Jamie's voice was calm. Deep. Firm.

"But Jamie..." Claire started.

"I need ye go, Claire. To ken ye are safe. There is a time and place for argue'n. Now is no one of them. Do as I tell ye." A no-nonsense firmness inflected in his tone. "Do ye hear me?" His fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of the dirk.

"Yes Jamie. Whatever you say." Claire's voice whispered, hinting at the sudden fear she felt take over her body. She knew he was not asking, he was telling. Jamie must sense something was very wrong for him to act this way.

Jamie was not convinced that Claire would, in fact, leave him when he commanded her to. _Damn woman_ he thought to himself, but it was one of things that drew him to her. Her fierce independence. He would find a way to protect her, if she did'na do as he told her. "Who's out there? Show yerself."

Another growl, low and hostile, was the reply.

Jamie realized it was personal. Meant for him, as a warning, and suddenly he knew. "Keir? Is that you?" He asked as he took another step forward.

The brush moved again.

"Beval, I do'na have a grievance with ye. I hold no ill will toward ye fer yesterday at the Macveys." Jamie took two steps forward and partially drew his dirk.

Nothing. Silence was the response. Jamie knew he was right. Was Beval man or beast, he was no sure. He would find out in moments, he was quite certain.

He took another step forward. Another step and he could touch the brush. "Claire. Get ready to run. On my mark. Ye ken?"

Nothing. Silence. No response. Jamie checked his panic, held his breath and turned. There was Claire, turned to face the path. But the path was blocked by a verra large, black wolf. With golden eyes. Staring right at Claire.

Jamie felt his heart leap to his throat. There was no way he could get between the wolf and Claire in time. "Beval" Jamie almost shouted, trying to avert the wolf's attention to himself. The wolf did not shift it's focus from Claire, rather, slowly, it took a step forward, toward his Sassenach. That's when Jamie noticed the dead rabbit in it's mouth.

"Beval?" Claire asked.

The wolf took another step forward.

"Beval? Is that really you?" Claire whispered softly.

Jamie was rooted in place. He could'na move. Arm nor leg. He was sure if he did the wolf would attack Claire. In horror, he could only watch.

The wolf dropped the rabbit at Claire's feet and lay down. Head up and ears alert. Eyes focused on nothing but Claire. The little girl from so long ago. He had found her. He wanted to wagged his tail with joy. He whined.

Claire knelt. As she had done all those years ago in Turkey. She extended her hand, open palm up. Half the distance. Allowing the wolf to smell her. Suddenly her hand glowed a soft blue as she released her scent. Just as her father had taught her, all those years ago, never to do. She knew Beval would remember because she had not listened to him then either.

Jamie watched with trepidation as the wolf sniffed and lowed it's head, allowing Claire to run her nails though the silky-soft ebony fur as the wolf closed it's eyes.

Jamie could swear he heard the beast sigh. He moved several steps toward Claire. The wolf opened it's eyes and leapt to its feet as Jamie moved. It's attention now focused on Jamie's every move. It raised it's upper lip, to display an impressive set of teeth, that included two very large, canines. The wolf licked it's nose, emitting a low, threatening growl as he did.

Jamie was in no doubt of the message.

"Stop Beval." Claire commanded and grabbed the wolf's fur at the neck. "Jamie is the one. I found him."

The wolf turned it's head and looked at her. Claire released her grasp, stood and walked to Jamie. She came to a halt directly in front of him and whispered, "I promise I will explain everything." She turned and took her place next to Jamie, resting her hand safely in his. They would face the wolf together.

Jamie gently caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

The wolf openly growled, revealing that the lower teeth were as equally impressive as the uppers. The fur on his back raised. He had surmised yesterday, that it was when the two touched, that their scents combined and he could finally smell Claire. Now he noticed that the phenomenon did not stop there. Not only did Claire's hand glow blue, but when she took Fraser's, their linked hands illuminated a strong, purple. In Turkey she had always referred to him as _the red man,_ never by name _._ Now he understood, she was not referring to his hair or skin color but by his aura. Fraser's was most obviously red.

Claire released Jamie's hand and stepped in front of him. She stamped her foot on the ground to get the wolf's attention. "No, Beval. My father told me I was made for _The Red Man,_ _not_ for you. I explained that to you at Gőbekli Tepe. I thought you understood. I have found him. Jamie," and she turned briefly to gaze upon him, "is mine. I can not... _will not_ , allow you to harm him." Her eyes glowed with fury. "You said we could be friends..."

The wolf went back, picked up the rabbit and set it, once again at her feet. He looked up at her with great expectation.

Claire did not kneel this time. She looked down and said "No Beval. Jamie is my warrior. My protector. My provider. He is my heart. I'm sorry. I thought you..."

The wolf met Jamie's stare and added an angry glare to it. He turned and in three leaps he was gone from sight.

"...understood." Claire finished sadly.


	31. Chapter 31 - The Calving Shed Day 2 Pt 2

Je Suis Prest – The Calving Shed Day Two Part II

Jamie watched Claire's anger reduce slowly into sadness as she realized the ramifications of her decision. It had cost her… what exactly, Jamie wondered. A friend? An admirer? An unrequited lover? Perhaps something more, that he could not begin to understand. She would need to explain the relationship to him so that he might make sense of it. He picked up the dead rabbit and jostled it, still warm in his hand and fur soft to the touch. It was of good size and not a mark on the pelt. The wolf had taken care not to mar the kill, must have snapped it's neck. His godfather would appreciate such a display of skill and cunning, perhaps even admire the man for it. That acknowledged, Jamie could no allow Claire to accept it. He understood the significance of the wolf laying the rabbit at her feet. He certainly did not need Claire to explain it. Beval had presented Claire with a gift. No, it was more than that, a reminder of a previous declaration, or promise, and the wolf had been surprised at Claire's rejection of it. Beval had clearly expected it to please her. Had she accepted such a presentation before? Had she now, understood the message the wolf conveyed and rejected it along with all it's implications? Yes, he thought, and felt his heart swell in the knowledge that she had once again, selected him. He spun, hurtling the carcass into the brush as hard and far as he could. He wanted the damn offering gone. Out of sight. Away from Claire. He roared as he sent it flying.

The roar. It was a deep, visceral sound like Claire had never heard before. It vibrated against the clouds. She walked to the basket and picked it up. Such a waste. Neither of them would be hungry for food now she believed, as she waited for Jamie. His face was deep in thought when he turned; a million miles away. He strode to her, grabbed her by the wrist and silently led her down the trail, back to the horses. Once under the apple tree, he released her and walked several yards away. He abruptly came to a halt and turned to face her.

 _Arms folded across his chest... defensive, not open or receptive. Glaring eyes... angry. Firm, straight lips... non communicative. Standing straight, shoulders back... He definitely thinks he's right. Feet, firmly planted, shoulder width apart... he's not budging on his opinions or ideas. Silent... He was waiting for her to explain._ If his roar had not told her, his body language certainly did... Jamie was clearly upset. She had watched as he had thrown the rabbit carcass about as far as humanly possible, then turned and looked at her as if it had been her fault. Though she was not really sure she understood why. She had done nothing wrong. It was not like she had _asked_ Beval to meet them up here or kill the bloody rabbit for her. She had tried to give the first one back, all those years ago. Nor had Beval committed what she considered to be a major infraction, though she was sure the growling, snarling and glaring at Jamie had not helped that cause either. She set the basket down, blanket on top of it and stepped forward. Toward Jamie.

"Jamie," She began.

His eyes lifted from her chest to her face. She stopped. "Really?" She questioned.

Jamie motioned at her with his chin. She looked down. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie" she snapped as she buttoned her shirt hurriedly. "Seriously, I'd forgotten all about _Show and Tell._ My mind _was_ elsewhere."

Jamie almost smiled. God he loved her. Claire could be so fierce. But he needed to convey the seriousness of the situation. There would be time to laugh later. "Before, ye begin explain'n, remember that we promised each other truth, in everything we share" Jamie began firmly. "We have no room for lies between us. Secrets, aye, clearly there are secrets, but do'na lie to me, Claire. Can ye promise me that?" Jamie almost demanded rather than asked. He needed the truth. The whole of it. How much did Claire ken? The wolf could shift into a man's shape, that much he now knew. He wondered if it was the same as with the selkies. Many had called his verra own father a selkie. _Brian Dubh (Black Brian)_ said to have come from the sea, shed his seal skin and won his mother's heart right out from under his two uncles and a slew of suitors at The MacKenzie Gathering. But unlike the tales, his father had not dragged his mother back into the sea. His father had stayed and lived with her on land. That is, if he was foolish enough to believed the stories Mrs. Crook told him when he was just a wee laddie. No, he needed to hear of Claire's meeting the wolf. Then decide what believe and do. His fingers drumming on his thigh as he thought.

"Yes, Jamie." Claire began with a strength in her voice. "I told you I would always tell you the truth. I will not lie to you now. I just don't know that I have all the answers you need but I will tell you all I know."

Jamie nodded. Her heart was his, he reminded himself, no Beval's or Frank's or whoever else she unknowingly attracted. She would tell him the truth of it. His body relaxed a little.

His Sassenach took another step forward. This time Jamie moved back a couple of steps. If she touched him, he'd be lost to his passion for her... her wiles. Bad enough he had to stand there and watch while she closed her shirt, knowing that she was bare underneath. It made his heart race. He shook his head to clear where his mind had gone. There would be time for that later. Now he needed Claire to tell him how all this with Beval had come to be in order for things to be settled and set aside, and he needed a clear head to listen.

 _Alright, boundaries set then,_ Claire told herself. She turned and walked back to the tree. Jamie would have to come to her then. She just needed to convince him that he wanted to.

"My father is Raymond of Magdalene." Claire stated with a strong, clear voice filled with determination as she looked Jamie straight in the eye. She had decided it would be best to start at the beginning. Come clean about everything. Let Jamie see she was telling him all she knew, from the beginning, just as he had told her that first night. She knew she would tell him things she had never said out loud before, to anyone. The chips would have to fall where they may. "He is called Master Raymond, because he is a Master Healer, as his father was before him. As I will be some day. I do not know who my mother is; I have never met her nor has Raymond ever talked to me about her." She paused, took a deep breath and uttered the dreaded words... "Raymond is also a Traveler, Jamie. He uses the stones to move through time."

Jamie lost his ability to speak. It took all his skill at cards to keep his face from showing the shock his racing mind was spinning in. That was certainly not the way he expected their conversation to begin. He set his hand, as casually as he could, on the hind quarter of the horse next to him in order to steady himself, and prepared for whatever else Claire had to tell him.

"I..." Claire stuttered, "I was born in a place called Israel, the land where my father's family is from. In another time. He traveled, you see and brought me here much the same way that you and Murtagh arrived. My father can control the time aspect of the travel. He can open the stones and travel to any time he wishes. Forward or back, either way. He does not depend on the seasons or the solstice, contradicting what Mrs. Graham has told us. I think that Raymond must have opened the stones for you to come here, to me. To protect me, Jamie, though from what or whom, I have no idea." Claire had been looking straight at Jamie up until this point. Now she turned away. She had never been afraid of anything in her entire life until this moment. The fact that Jamie now realized that she had known, all along, that her father was capable of taking he and Murtagh back... she did not think she was brave enough to look that truth in the face. "It was a very dangerous time, where we lived when I was born, and Raymond thought it best to send me away, for my safety."

Claire did not want to pause, to give Jamie any chance to comment. She plowed ahead, babbling the information as popped into her head. She was sure she was not being coherent. She could only hope Jamie could connect the dots.

"Lambert was in Egypt when Raymond found him. They have been friends forever, known each other always, as Lamb tells it. Lamb thought a dig site was no place for an infant so he took me to England and left me with Henry and Julia, his brother and sister-in-law. They could not have children, you see, and wanted them, desperately."

Claire kicked at the ground and turned to look off to the left. A field of lavender. With enough purple and green to still cover most of the slope. She closed her eyes, inhaled and held the scent in her lungs, to calm her and clear her head. She released the air and repeated the breathing a second time. She felt better, her head clearer.

She turned back to Jamie, who watched her intently. "I remember asking Henry where I came from," she began again, "and he replied that he had found me in the garden, under a cabbage leaf. I'd run, right then, into the garden to see if a brother or a sister was there waiting for me to find. I believe they truly loved me, Jamie," and she finally found the courage to look at him, "like I was their very own. But then they both died, suddenly, in a car accident, and Father and Lamb came to get me. The short of it is, after those first five years, I have lived most of my life with Lamb. Moving from place to place, dig site to ruin. All around the world. Hidden mostly in this time. Raymond would come see me often in the beginning but by the age of 8, his visits were almost non-existent and when he came he stayed but half a day at best. Like now, I hardly know he's here. Father told me that I have always been safer with Lamb, that his own movements could lead others to find me." She sighed and took a breath. That's how I came to be in Turkey. At a dig that Lamb was evaluating for the local government. And where I met Beval Keir."

She sighed again. Jamie had not moved so much as a hair since she touched the tree and looked up. His face was stoic, giving no clue as to what was going on in that hard head of his. She knew what he wanted to hear... she had just taken as long as possible to get there. She needed to let his anger about Raymond subside a bit, so that he would not explode when she explained. Why was this so difficult? Her heart ached so.

"What is important for you to know is that, _if,_ Magda Keir is who I think she is, then she _is_ my father's sister. My aunt. And yes," Claire said as she tucked her loose curls behind her ears, "I suppose that would make Beval, Chal and I, all related." Claire stopped talking and looked at Jamie to see how receptive he was to this new family dynamic of hers.

Jamie blinked. Was there a hint of disbelief in those blue eyes? Claire worried. "First, I am not a shifter; I can not change forms. I am a Healer, nothing more. I can travel, like you and Murtagh, but I have no real control. I've only used the stones with Raymond, never alone or without him. He guides both Lambert and myself when he needs to move me. I do hear the stones call, though Murtagh says they buzz like bees, I hear them roar with pain. They frighten me."

Jamie nodded his head as if he understood, all the while he was really desperately trying to make sense of even just pieces of it.

She decided to keep talking rather than fall silent. "I think my aunt would actually be Beval's step-mother, because he was eight or nine when Beval's father actually met her. And I swear to you, Jamie, I did not know that's who they were yesterday. At Macvey's. I did not recognize them. Although the names should have jarred a memory, they didn't until the wolf showed up today. Then things seemed to fall into place for me." She held up her hands, palms toward Jamie, in her defense. "And just to clarify, I certainly had no idea they were living in Broch Mordha. Here. Now. How could I? Why would I? I only met them that once. For a week, in Turkey." She paused to see if Jamie would say something...

Jamie shot her an _Oh, really. I'm suppose to believe that_ kind of look.

"Alright, maybe it was more like two weeks, but it was all twenty years ago, Jamie and I _am_ telling you the truth. I met Mr. Keir and Beval and then a couple of days later my father and aunt arrived," Claire said as she watched her fingers pick at the tree's bark. "I did not even know my father had siblings until that moment. I've never met any of the rest of his family. As I have said, for as long as I can remember, I've lived with Lamb or his brother."

Jamie cleared his throat. Claire thought perhaps he might ask her a question but he only nodded his head for her to continue.

Claire took a large breath of air and began again. "Right, Lamb and I were at Göbekli Tepe, the site of the dig Lamb was working at... I went to fetch water... and I stumbled upon a young wolf at the stream..." Claire looked down at her feet and rubbed her forehead in thought. "...that same night, a man and his son came into camp... God love Lamb, he's never had a fear of strangers, so he invited them to shared our supper... and then... well, they were still there, sleeping by the fire the next morning. Mr. Keir, and his son, Beval, stayed with us for the entirety of our visit. Mr. Keir helped Lamb, translating for the workers. Beval and I became... friends" and she smiled slightly at the memory.

Claire stopped and looked at Jamie. He had moved closer. His stance had softened, no longer rigid, angry and stern. He had un-hobbled the horses and was adjusting their girths as he listened, even if he was not asking questions. He was processing the information she had giving him, of that she was sure. Every once and a while she'd catch him drumming his fingers as he tried to work out something she said. It was a lot to take in, and under the circumstances, he was doing better than most. She had once been so desperate to work out some of her own questions, and having no one else she could trust, almost told Frank. But the vision of Frank dragging her to hospital and checking her into the 4th floor Psych Ward and Nurse Ratched, had kept her from sharing her secrets. She trusted Jamie, he was the right choice. He would help guide her. She had just given him a lot to process. She was asking him to believe that a boy she knew, could shift into wolf form and back and that she wasn't crazy. Of course, Jamie had traveled two hundred years into the future, simply by touching a stone, so maybe there was hope he would eventually speak to her again. Preferably before she went back to Inverness. She dug into the lunch basket and pulled out one of the beers. She offered it to Jamie, but he shook his head no. She released the bail lid and took a deep drink from the bottle, closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts.

"You know Jamie, I've had dreams about you for as long as I can remember, long before the one we shared about Culloden. Before I met Beval, they started. I think they are similar to the ones you had about me. Sometimes we are in period clothing like you and Murtagh arrived in and the theater gown I was going to wear had I returned with you. Sometimes we are very elegantly dressed, ride in carriages and going to gay parties. Once we were on a ship almost the entire dream. It sailed into a fierce storm that tore the ship apart and we survived, washed up on a shore. Another was in a village with American Indians and the village caught on fire. Once we climbed a mountain, to look out over a modern city and you laughed because I had hiked in boots with heels. Though we never start out together, we always find each other, in these dreams. Your hair is long and plaited like it is now, but sometimes it is short, auburn or once even a soft brown. But your eyes, your eyes are always the same. They are the most beautiful cerulean blue with that lovely cat eye shape... and I knew one day I'd find you and that you would be mine. When Raymond reads the bones for me, he always refers to you as _The Red Man._ He never gave me a name or a description. He said I'd know you... the minute I'd met you, I'd know you were the one, and so I believed and waited" and Claire looked up. "And I did Jamie. The moment I saw you, I knew. I really did."

Jamie, lead the two horses to Claire. He pushed her against the tree and kissed her hard. "Remember that Sassenach. Remember that it's me. Always" and he kissed her again.

"I had other plans for us this morning. Your game of _Show and Tell_ would have ended with you naked on that blanket, over in the heather with me settled between your legs _"_ and he allowed his hand to cup one of her breasts and bit his lower lip as he thought of what he might do.

Claire closed her eyes as his hand caressed her. The touch elicited a moan, full of longing from her. Without thought, she subtly shifted her weight and separated her legs. Presenting herself. Preparing.

Jamie felt her movement and smiled. "But that will have to wait for now" and Jamie rested his forehead on hers. "It is getting late and I want to make sure everything is fine at the Macveys before we head back to Lallybroch.

Claire knew she had misheard Jamie. She leaned against the tree, eye still closed and waited to be kissed again.

Jamie straightened, placing a kiss on her forehead as he did so. "So up ye go on Rob Roy here and we'll be off.

"What?" Claire uttered with complete surprise, as her eyes flew open. She looked at Jamie smiling at her. _The rotten bastard_ she thought and then quickly added, "I thought I was riding, William."

The look on Claire's glass face made Jamie laugh. "No, Sassenach. The way things have gone this morn'n, I think I want ye to ride with me, at least to Thistle Pond. So up with ye..."

For once, Claire decided not to argue. She really felt a need to be near Jamie right now, so this new riding arrangement would do just fine. She handed the unfinished beer to Jamie, stepped into the stirrup and slid into the saddle.

Once Claire was settled, Jamie handed her Williams lead and climbed up behind her. He finished the beer and placed the bottle in the basket, tied to the back of Williams saddle. He adjusted his dirk and pulled Claire close. He took the lead, clucked to Rob Roy, gently pressed his heals into the horse's sides, and off they went. Jamie had mixed emotions as they turned South, away from Box Hill. Sad to leave behind a place that left him filled with such fond memories of a time spent with his mam. Yet relieved to leave it, with its fresh memory and of what might have occurred had things ended differently when Beval came to challenged him.

"Are you alright with everything I told you, Jamie?" Claire asked as they rode away.

Jamie snorted. "Ye stumbled into a wolf? Yer tell'n me that the wolf I just met," and he pointed behind them, toward the hill, "did'na hear yoo come'n? He'd have heard you a mile away, Sassenach. Smelled ye too, I'll bet." He smiled though Claire could not see it. "You'd be an easy one to track, aye? Ye certain that's all ye want to tell me about that, Claire?"

"Yes. I have left nothing out."

"Yer no attracted to Beval, are ye Sassenach? Maybe ye had a first wee heart break over the lad?"

Claire turned and looked up at Jamie. "Oh stop, Jamie. Really, I was only five or six years old," she snorted back at him, then continued. "Beval wasn't much older. We were just two, unsupervised _children_ , that's all."

"Twice yer age, Sassenach." Jamie clarified. "You were five and ye said Beval was 9." An eyebrow was raised to make the point.

"Well, yes. I suppose that is right, Jamie" Claire looked up at him slightly confused.

"Claire."

"Yes, Jamie?"

"Do ye ken any idea, at all, as to why I am upset?" Jamie asked as he shifted forward in the saddle.

"Yes... you are angry about Beval..."

"And why, exactly, am I angry about Beval?"

"Because I did not tell you he was a wolf?"

"Ah, well, aye, I can say I am a little disappointed there, Sassenach. That ye did no see fit to tell me about that _unnatural_ ability, Beval seems to be in possession of. A wolf that shifts to a man, is none too common. It would have been good to ken" Jamie said as he knocked her gently with his shoulder. "But then you _said_ ye did no recognize him yesterday. At least no as a man."

"Y..ee..sss." Claire replied slowly. She smelled a Jamie Trap. This was not going to end well for her. He had this technique down to a science and it made her just a little nervous. So nervous, in fact, that her skin was covered in goose bumps.

"When he came to you today, you recognized him?" Jamie asked as he placed a kiss on the back of her head.

"Well yes... er, no, not really" was her reply.

"Which is it Sassenach? Aye or Nay? Did ye or did ye no recognize the wolf just now?" He asked with a clear directive and prodded her with his shoulder again.

"Well, Jamie," she said with some hesitation. "A pure black wolf is a bit uncommon. Anywhere, not just here in Scotland. It brought back the memory of Beval, I will say that. But it was more what he did, rather than what he looked like, that helped me piece it all together, Jamie. Plus you called him by name, remember?"

"Aye, but that was a guess on my part." Jamie said and smiled to himself. "What was it, exactly, that he did that helped ye te remember him, Sassenach?"

"When he gave me the rabbit. It was exactly what the wolf had done when I first met him in Turkey. Beval was a wolf... black as night and those eyes like melted gold. I was fetching water... at first I did not see him... the wolf crossed the stream... laid the rabbit at my feet... allowed me to pet him... bowed and left."

"That's it? Noth'n more, Sassenach?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, it was awhile ago. I suppose I could have forgotten something. But I did not realized the boy and the wolf were the same until several days had past. I was foraging for nettles, herbs and berries when I stumbled upon a horned viper. Very poisonous if it strikes you. The wolf appeared out of no where and quickly killed the snake. I was shaken by the event and had dropped my basket, spilling all that I had collected. The wolf shifted in front of my very eyes. It went from the wolf to the boy I shared a camp with in the blink of an eye. All I could do was stand there starring at him, shaking. He helped me gather my spilled herbs and such and walked me back to camp. After that, he went with me where ever I went. We were almost inseparable." Claire leaned back into Jamie just as his arm tightened around her waist, holding her against him. She had not realized that reliving the tale had made her start to shake all over again.

"Oh Jamie, I did not realize just how scared I was at the time. If Beval had not shown up and killed that snake, it would have bitten me for certain. I'd have died in minutes. There would have been nothing anyone could have done. Help was too far away to reach me in time. I knew that at five."

"Shush, Sassenach. Yoo are alright. Beval saved ye." Jamie whispered in her ear. "Yer safe now, Sassenach. I have ye." _Beval had saved her,_ Jamie repeated to himself. Now he knew and he could not fault either of them for it.

Claire had no idea how Jamie knew where he was going. The sun came out from behind the clouds often enough to allow Jamie to adjust their general direction, but other than that, she had not a clue where they were. They rode through field after field, opening gate after gate and finally she realized they arrived at the calving shelter from the far west of the very field it was so happily situated in. When they reached the Macvey's, the men were back at work and the women were almost finished clearing the yard of the tables and chairs.

"We will no stay but a few moments, Sassenach" Jamie said as they approached. "Ye do not even need to dismount."

Claire was thankful Jamie did not see her roll her eyes. She knew those men would never allow him to just stop by, look and then leave. Jamie would be at least an hour, quite possibly longer. She half predicted that Jamie would have his jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up, working within the first fifteen minutes of their arrival. She'd just have to be patient and wait. Where was Murtagh, she wondered as she scanned the faces. He was always up for a little Jamie wager.

They were quite as they rode over to the stone wall of the new calving shed's pasture. Jamie slid down off Rob Roy and placed a hand on Claire's thigh and said, "Wait here. I won't be but a few minutes. Then we will leave for home, aye Sassenach?"

Claire nodded her head and leaned down and kissed Jamie. "I'll wait," she whispered. "And thank you."

"You do no ken to thank me, Sassenach. Though I must say that it has been a less than normal day for me. This seems to happen daily since I've met ye, lass" and he smiled at her. "Ye are no dull, I'll say that fer ye. No wonder Master Raymond said I needed to guard yer back."

"Did Raymond say that? And just when was that?" She asked and smiled. "Oh, Jamie" Claire called out as he began to walk away, "Give this to Murtagh. I don't suppose we need it any longer." and she held out the basket. "Someone might as well eat it. I can not see good food go to waste."

Jamie returned, took the basket and said, "I am sorry that things did no go as I planned them this morn'n. I had hoped te have a different sort of day with you." The look on his face told her that he meant every word of it.

"Don't punish me for something I had no control over. Love me because I choose you" she whispered to him. She did so love this man and it must have shone on her glass face, for Jamie's face shifted to one of such gentleness and softness as his eyes darkened slightly with lust. He raised his mouth to hers and she kissed him. Softly.

"Oh, do'na worry there Sassenach. I am yours as much as you are mine." He said when they separated. He turned and as he started toward the working men, he commented to her over his shoulder, "The day is no over ye." He heard her snort with laughter as he walked away.

Claire remained on Rob Roy and watched as one by one the men stopped their work congregated to Jamie. Within minutes he was surrounded. "This is certainly going to be more than a few minutes," Claire said with a sigh.

"Chair!" a voice interrupted her thoughts.

She turned and there was Fred, and of course Brom, standing on the wall. Fred was almost eye to eye with her with an enormous grin on his face. He had a very plumb grouse in his hands.

"Fred" Claire said and smile back. "What do you have there? An injured bird?"

Fred nodded his head furiously.

"Well, hop up then. Lets see what I can do for your feathered friend there." And she slid back in the saddle and raised her arm to allow Fred to climb up in front of her. Brom hopped onto the croup of the horse's back, behind Claire. Claire thanked the stars that Rob Roy was older, and not a skittish colt, as the horse only turned its head to give her a look rather than start bucking. "All aboard Rob Roy, let's make for the barn" and she nudged him gently with her heels and turned him toward the open gate. William Wallace, his lead still in Claire's hand, followed along behind, amiably.

In minutes they were at Fred's zoo. Dismounted and the horses tied to one of the nearby barn pillars, Claire took a look at the grouse. "It is a fine, fat specimen, if ever I saw one" Claire said to Fred. "but it looks to have broken a wing."

Fred made a frown. Brom barked from his perch on the exam table.

"Sadly, I do not have my bag with me. Let's see what I can do with a just my hands then shall we?" She whispered conspiratorially to Fred as she checked to make sure no one was watching. Fred adjusted his hold on the black bird, covering the red crested head with his other hand, stilling the flustered bird. Claire placed the injured wing between her hands and let her hands glow blue. The bird stilled. After a couple of seconds, Claire examined the wing, then gave it another few seconds between her hands. After a third treatment, she released the wing.

Fred looked up at her and said, "Done."

"Yes, Fred. All finished. You can put the bird back where you found him." She smiled at him. "Birds have hollow bones, you see. It helps them to fly. So it does not take long for me to heal them. Shall I see to my other patient while I am here?"

Fred nodded his head as he placed the grouse into one of the empty boxes and closed the lid. Claire pulled the hare's box forward and lifted it's lid. The hare was huddled in the corner, and as Claire suspected, it had shredded yesterday's bandage. "Can you lift him out and let me have a look, Fred?"

Fred reached in and removed the hare by grabbing the ears. With his other hand he cradled the body to his chest. Claire could see the leg looked no better than yesterday so she, once again, placed her hands over the torn flesh on the leg and allowed her hands, once again, glow blue, this time for almost a full minute. Yesterday's time had been too short she decided and since she was leaving tomorrow, this was her last opportunity to help the injured animal heal. When she removed her hand the hare struggled once again but this time it used both legs. Yesterday the injured leg had hung lip and useless.

"Done" Fred said excitedly. "Hare home too" he announced with a huge smile on his face.

"Yes" Claire said. "Tomorrow you can let them both go home." She could not help but giggle at Fred's exuberance. It was really quite contagious. "Any more patients for me, Master Fred?" Claire inquired.

Fred shook his head _No_ and placed his hand in hers. Claire smile. "I like you too. Would you like to ride the horse back or walk Fred?" she asked.

"Up" Fred stated vehemently.

Claire helped him up into Rob Roy's saddle and then handed Brom to him. Claire untied both horses and they walked back inside the barn. Entering, at the opposite end was Jane, Fred's sister.

"Ja!" Fred screamed and wave a hand frantically in the air.

Claire, once again, counted her blessings that the horses were old and less likely to allow Fred to startle them.

"I thought that was you, Claire." Jane said as she approached them. "I am so glad you came back today. You left yesterday before we had a chance to chat." She had a warm, friendly smile on her face. "Fred, are you riding a horse?"

Fred smiled ear to ear and nodded his head at least half a dozen times. Claire was afraid he would give himself whiplash.

"Is it not alright? Claire asked with concern as Jane reached them. "I asked. Fred said he wanted up." She added as she stopped the horses in the middle of the barn.

"No, no it's fine" Jane replied. She placed a hand on Fred's thigh. "Are ye alright up there Brom?" and she scratched the dog's ear. "It's just that Fred has never ridden a horse before."

Claire's glass face must have shown her shock because Jane burst out laughing. "I ken, right? Fred, born and raised on this farm, aye. Born in the coo pasture in fact. But we do'na own a single horse. Never have" and she laughed. "Most of the horses ye see around here are just for pleasure, ye ken. No too many of us have the time nor the money for that. That's why these two are so old. John's had them go'n on twenty years, I'll bet. He bought them the summer before Willie and Mr. Murray Senior disappeared. John and Willie would ride over for a visit on Sunday's after church. I think it gave Becca, Mrs. Murray, a bit of peace and quite on The Lord's Day. My brother David and Willie were the verra best of friends _"_ Jane said wistfully. "David died in the war, ye ken. Hugh and David both. Everything fell onto Thomas' shoulders with them both gone" she added with a heavy sigh.

"Too many died in that bloody war. We lost so many fine young men." Claire added companionably and they started to walk again. "I was a nurse, stationed in France. I saw enough senseless death to last me a lifetime. My heart aches for the families that lost loved ones."

"Though a necessary evil, I'm afraid." Jane continued. "Several families in Broch Mordha took in children from London. We had two Pied Pipers, both boys, about a year or two older than Fred stayed with us. Almost five years, they were here on the farm. Their da was a policeman. Their mam and da came up to get them, be about March since they've been gone now. We had a letter from them. Started back to school." Jane smiled. "I think the McGowan's in Nairn still have their one girl. The mother died in one of the shelters, during a bombing and the father is still unaccounted for. An orphan most likely, though they have hope that an aunt is still alive. The lass is older, 15, I believe. It's the wee ones that miss their parents so," Jane whispered to Claire so Fred would not overhear.

Fred was so happy to be on the horse, he was paying no attention to their conversation. His hands were full of the horse's mane and Brom proudly standing lookout with his front paws perched on the animal's withers, poised to bark the alarm should anything become amiss.

"Oh, how sad terribly for them. I am afraid we'll read stories about this in the paper for quite some time." Claire said, shaking her head sadly. "We sometimes forget just how far reaching wars can be. I was working field triage and an American soldier was brought in, severely wounded. His father was a High Up at Eastman-Kodak in New York and he was telling me that in his home town of Rochester, over two dozen families voluntarily took in employee's children, from our British subsidiaries. People can rise to meet the need. We are nothing, if not resilient. Do you suppose things will ever be 'normal' again?"

They had reached the other end of the barn and continuing their walk, out the door and turned toward the almost completed shed and the working men.

"Normal? No. I do'na see how, Claire. Especially for families and communities like us. We lost so much. No to say no one else did, but my two eldest brothers are gone. My father should be pass'n the farm on to his sons and slow'n down some but Thomas can'na carry it alone. And Rabbie, he's so angry, two of his big brothers are gone... There are too many widows and orphans for me. I do'na see how ye bounce back from that."

"King George says we will re-build. I suppose, if we believe we can, we will." Claire answered. "Here today is a great example of how pulling together can make things happen. Broch Mordha should be very proud of itself for rising to this challenge, helping one of her own in need."

Jane stopped Claire just before they reached the pasture wall. "I wanted to talk to ye Claire. About yesterday. How verra sorry I am for the way ye were treated. The women folk did not..."

"Thank you Jane." Claire interrupted and placed her free hand on Jane's arm. "That means a great deal to me. For the apology. But I am leaving tomorrow night and I won't be back until the New Year." She blinked and nodded at Jane's reaction. "I will be back. I have made some commitments over the next six weeks and I need to keep them. Then I will return. To stay for good." Claire moved her hand to Jane's shoulder. "I will not let the women of Broch Mordha drive me away. I am just going to place it on a back burner for now. When I return, the ladies won't know what hit them." and Claire winked conspiratorially at Jane.

Jane laughed. "That's the spirit, Claire. Why don't you come to church tomorrow. Listen to Father Brown's sermon. He can be rather inspirational when the spirit takes him." Jane said with a smile. "He can be quite the motivator when he finds his theme. Mass starts promptly at 10am. Yoo do'na want te walk in late... interrupt while the good father's talk'n..."

"Jamie said he would like us all to go. So that's the plan..."

"What's the plan lass?" Murtagh asked as he approached.

"Church tomorrow." Claire informed him. "10 o'clock sharp apparently or we'll be locked out."

Jane looked at Claire, shocked. "I no said..."

"I was just was teasing Murtagh, Jane." Claire turned to Murtagh. "Mutagh, this is Jane Macvey. Seamus's younger daughter, Tomas and Fred's sister." And she looked up at Fred still smiling up on the horse. She then turned to Jane and said "Jane, this is Murtagh Fraser, Jamie's Godfather.

"Chair, red man come" Fred announced.

Claire stopped talking to Murtagh and Jane and looked up at Fred. "What did you say Fred?"

"Red man, Chair, for you." Fred said and he pointed to the field.

Claire turned. There was Jamie walking toward them with John. He smiled at her when their eyes met. She initially smiled but then furrowed her eyebrows and looked back and Fred. "Who are those two men, Fred?" she asked.

Fred looked down at her and said "Jury and red man" and smiled. Brom barked and wiggled like a worm in Fred's arms.

"Jury and red man" Claire repeated.

"Jury is Fred's word for John Murray. _J_ for _John Ury_ is really Mu _rray._ Fred has simply shortened it to something he can pronounce. Like _Ja_ for _Jane_ " Jane explained. "I've never heard Fred say _reddmann_ before" with a perplexed look on her face.

"So _Jury_ is really _Jurray."_ Claire repeated. "Fred, you are really quite cleaver."

"Red man?" Murtagh asked his eyes meeting Claire's. "Does the lad ken..."

Claire returned the look and waved an extended finger in front of her face as she casually shook her head side to side. She could tell Murtagh understood because he quickly changed the subject by simply turning to Fred and inquired, "That's a find dog ye have there. What's his name then?" and he reached up to scratch the pup behind the ear while it wiggled and clamored all over Fred's lap and the horse's front quarter.

"Brom" Fred said. Brom stopped wiggling, turned and licked Fred's face then turned right back to watching Jamie and John approach, wiggling like he was excited to see them.

When Jamie and John reached them, John turned to Jane and said, "So I see ye found Claire for Jamie here. Thank you for returning her." and he gave her a hug. "And just what are you and Master Brom here up to, Fred? Is Claire teaching you to ride a horse? Your bicycle not good enough for you then or do ye want my Roy here for yer animal collection?"

Fred giggled. "No. Love Roy" and the boy threw his arms around the tolerant horse's neck, flattening the puppy in-between them.

"Well so do I," John said as he patted the horse's neck. "He's been a good friend for twenty years." John buried his face in the mane of the horse and whispered "Yes, you certainly have, old man." and he patted the horse's neck again. "It's nice that Jamie, you and Murtagh will ride them. Poor beasts get no exercise from me any longer, Claire."

"Turns out Claire is a verra capable horsewoman, John. But William Wallace is really quite a tame mount, not true a test of her skills though I do'na think I will be putting her on Donas anytime in the near future."

"I should think not" Claire said with a laugh. "Jane, have you met Jamie?" She asked as she turned from one to the other.

"Aye," Jane answered. "I managed to make a Gàidhlig lesson one Wednesday night, though I don't think I did verra well. And, sadly, I've no made it back to another."

"Aye, I remember." Jamie said with a smile as he walked up to stand beside Claire, placing an arm around her waist. Jamie looked only at Claire as he spoke to Jane. "Seem to remember ye had a good ear for the pronunciations. Ye just need to work on learning the words." He tucked some of Claire's crazy curls behind her ear and asked "Where'd ye ride off to? One minute ye were on the horse with me, I dismount and walk a couple of steps, turn around and ye are no where in sight. Neither yoo or the horses. I shall have te tie a bell about yer waist, if ye keep disappearing on me." and he pulled her against him and kissed her cheek. "I only have one more day with ye before ye leave. I do'na plan to spending hunt'n ye down, Sassenach."

"Well maybe you best not leave me alone then," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Have you finished? Are we leaving now?"

"Aye. We should go, if ye are finished with Jane. And yoo Master Fred... let me help ye off Rob Roy here." He started to reach up when the puppy jumped into his out stretched arms. Wriggling and jiggling and licking Jamie uncontrollably. Jamie almost dropped him twice; Brom almost wiggled himself out of Jamie's grasp in his excitement.

"Well, Jamie," Claire managed between giggles as she and Jane watched him struggle to control Brom. "It looks like someone is very happy to see you."

Jamie managed to ensnare the twisting, squirming ball of fur, placing his large hand on the top of the pups head to keep it from licking him. "Yer pup is certainly friendly, Fred." and he set the puppy down on the ground and reached up to help Fred down. Brom, still a pup in motion, now with the ability to run circles around Jamie, barking and pulling at his kilt. " 'Tis alright Brom, I will be verra careful helping Fred."

"No." Fred said quite clearly. "Brom me Chair Red man go Lally. Peas, Ja. 'K?"

Claire looked from Fred to Jane to Jamie and back to Jane. "Well, I suppose it would be alright, if it's alright with his mother. Do you think your mother would be alright with it, Jane? I have to get back to Lallybroch. Mary MacNab and her son Rabbie are coming to dinner tonight. They will be moving into the estate to help take care of the house. Fred can help me make the dessert, _pie_ , if he would like." Claire said.

"Pie? Yer make'n pie? Apple?" Jamie asked as he and Murtagh looked at her with great expectation.

"Apple" she said and nodded her head. Jamie and Murtagh smiled. "

Fred nodded his head. "Me hep pie." He smiled happily.

"Hep Chair make three" Murtagh said to Fred. "One for me, one for Red Man here" and Murtagh nodded his head toward Jamie, "and one for the rest of them te share." He gave Fred a mischievous grin and waggled an eyebrow. "Oh, and get her to make some clotted cream as well. Help a man 'oot, aye, Fred?"

Fred giggled and nodded his head.

"Weelll, I suppose my mam..." Jane said, then added "Yes. That will be fine. I'll tell my mam" and she winked at Fred. "You be on best behavior for Claire and Jamie, Fred. Do you hear me?"

Fred nodded several times. Smile beaming.

" 'Tis alright lass. Murtagh and John are collecting Mary and her lad when they leave here. Claire and I would be happy to bring Fred home after supper. He'll be fine. I'll have him ride on Rob Roy with me though, Claire" and Jamie stopped to pick up Brom again to keep him still, "Brom will have te ride with yoo as he seems verra excited to go as well and I do'na think I can manage both."

"I do'na think the pup is excited about the ride Jamie." Murtagh interjected. "I think he has an attachment to yoo."

Jamie looked down at the squirming dog in his arms. Brom immediately stopped jiggling and started to lick Jamie's face. Jamie immediately handed the dog to Claire and the pup struggled to get away, pushing his paws against her chest as he leaned back toward Jamie and began to whimper and whine.

"Uh, no, I don't think so, Jamie. Clearly Brom prefers you" and she handed him right back. Jamie lifted the pup up to Fred. "Alright then, Brom. You can ride with us but sit still. All your struggling is making the horse a bit nervous."

Brom barked once and sat quietly on Fred's lap.

Jamie helped Claire on to William Wallace and as he started to mount his horse, Murtagh pulled Jamie aside. "Do ye notice anything familiar about that pup, Jamie?"

Jamie looked at Fred with the pup sitting straight up in his lap, head cocked like he was listening to them talk. "Aye, he reminds me of that pup my da had, when we were wee... _Bran_. Yoo remember him, Murtagh? This pups coloring is almost the same."

Brom barked. Twice.

Both Jamie and Murtagh looked up at the pup and then to each other. Jamie shook his head and muttered "No, it can'na be" and mounted Rob Roy without any further discussion.

He and Claire road out of the yard. Murtagh scratched his head as they road away. John placed a hand on his shoulder. "We should help clean up a bit then leave as well. Mary is expecting us to pick them up at 4. She said she wanted to help Claire with dinner. Give them a chance to get to know each other before the lass has to leave tomorrow."

As they rode back to Lallybroch, Claire realized that Jamie had taken the road that led them through Broch Mordha.

"Jamie, John was telling me about the statue here in the square" and as they approached the small park. "He told me it is a representation of the first Laird of Lallybroch, Brian Fraser and his two sons, William and James." She watched Jamie's face as she spoke. She reminded herself to Never, Ever play cards with Jamie. His face showed absolutely no hint of any emotion, Happy or Surprised. How could he possibly know about the statue, she asked herself.

Jamie stopped and turned in the saddle to see if Claire was joking, but clearly she was not. She was serious. He snorted and rode the horse up onto the square. Seated on the horse, allowed Jamie a fairly good look at the walking figure and to his surprise, it was a fairly good likeness of his da. The two boys resembled he and Willie a great deal as well, but he surmised that they had used the Lallybroch portrait to render their likeness'. But there was no portrait of his father that he was aware of. His mother never could get his father to sit still long enough for her to take his likeness.

 _The horse could be any horse, except this one was most definitely one of the Lallybroch draft horses. Their mam would send Willie to fetch their da te supper. Willie would run the entire way, with him lagging behind, legs too short to keep up with his older brother. Their mam would send them almost every night. It was almost as if their da wanted them to come and waited for them. He would lift them up and let them ride 'Gaoth' (Wind), a huge but gentle beast back to the barn. A Percheron, he was. And a beauty. White, with gray, dappled flanks. A long flowing mane and the only horse around with feathered feet and a docked tail._

He did not know how, but _Gaoth_ was the horse in the statue. Jamie was stunned, staring at what he knew now, was a likeness of his da, when suddenly, Brom leaped onto the back of Gaoth, behind Willie. Jamie gasped. A shutter ran through him. Bran used to ride behind Willie, just as the pup was now. The pup was Bran. No question in Jamie's mind. He did not understand how or why the pup was here, but that was his father's dog. The pup he had grown up with. That had sired several generations of pups at Lallybroch over the years. The dog had died while he had been living with his uncles at Castle Leoch. Jenny had written to tell him. Suddenly, the fear receded into calm and he ken without looking that Claire had rest her hand on him. She did not speak, just calmed him the only way anyone besides his mam had been able to, simply by touch. He closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them, he whistled for Bran, who jumped back onto Rob Roy, behind Jamie, took Claire's hand and headed home. He had some questions for Fred.


	32. Chapter 32- Chocolate, Trucks & Baseball

Je Suis Prest – Chocolate, Trucks and Baseball

As Jamie and Claire rode into the yard, Jenny came running, honking the high alert, her feathers a flurry. Her neck extended and wings flapping in an effort to make herself appear larger and more fierce; a force to be reckoned with. She abruptly halted in front of Rob Roy, and the horse, unfazed, lowered it's head and snorted. Just as Jenny was about to sound off again, Ian, from the coop door, honked just once. The gander, always one to have the last word, honked once more at the horse, ruffled her feathers and waddled away, back to the nest. The goose, it seemed, had brought the gander to heel.

"Guess Ian told Jenny" Claire said with a laugh, as Jamie dismounted and helped Fred and Bran down from Rob Roy. He slapped the horse on the flank and it quietly walked toward the barn. The pup, very interested in the noisy gander, trotted off toward the moving pile of feathers as it waddled away. "No Bran. Yoo'll do no chase'n of fowl at Lallybroch in this time either. Da's rules apply here as well and yoo'll abide by them, do ye hear me?"

The pup heeded the warning with a whimper, and turned back, but only after barking once at the departing bird.

Jamie walked over and aided Claire's descent to solid ground and took the reins from her. "I'll take care of the horses and check on the rest of the animals, then come in" he said as he kissed Claire. William Wallace needed no prodding. He made his way to the barn, following Rob Roy on his own accord. Jamie turned and knelt, so that he was eye level with Fred and asked, "Are you with me or Claire?"

"Chair. Hep pie." Fred replied and smiled.

"Very well then, do you suppose we can have a talk about the pup, when I come in? I have some questions on how ye came to have him." He asked the lad as he rubbed Bran's head.

Fred nodded his head and then took Claire's hand. It made Jamie smile to see Claire with the lad. Soon they would have their own and it made him realize just what a wonderful mother she would be. Patient and caring, warm and kind and yet somehow firm and thoughtful. Bran moved to stand in front of Jamie, wagging his tail. "Well, are ye go'n inside te warm yerself by the fire and beg for scraps or are ye come'n with me to the barn? Your choice Bran."

The pup placed a paw on Jamie's knee and lifted himself to eye level. He barked once then turned and stood next to Fred.

Claire laughed. "Guess that makes you second fiddle" and she smiled.

Jamie looked up at her and raised an eyebrow, then slowly stood. "Bran? No matter. 'Tis still my da's dog. Of that I am certain. If yer talk'n of yoo, I'll no have it. Watch yerself, my plump arsed gander, or I'll honk at ye like Ian."

Claire laughed. Her face flush with the happiness that filled her heart. If only she did not have to leave. The rhythm of life here on the farm with Jamie was what she wanted. Needed. The pieces of her life, since meeting this man, had all started to fall into place. Life made sense to her now. It had direction. Meaning. Purpose, she thought as her hand unconsciously found her belly. This was where she was meant to be. Here, with Jamie, at Lallybroch. It did not seem to matter what year, now or Jamie's, as long as she was with him. Either way, she knew she'd found happiness.

Claire turned Fred toward the scullery door. At the top of the stoop, both brushed the dirt and grim from their shoes on the boot scraper. "This is a _must_ before you enter this house, if you've been in the yard or with the animals. I have enough to do without having to sweep up the dirt you track in. Understood?"

Fred nodded.

She opened the door. "You too Bran. You can use the door mat" and she walked inside. Fred crossed the threshold and then turned. "Chair feet, Brom" and he pointed at the bristly mat. Bran walked up and when all four paws were on it, he shook like he was wet, shaking all the way down his body and legs until his paws jiggled as well. When the pup finished and looked up at Fred, the boy stepped out of the way and Bran pranced into the scullery, then turned to enter the kitchen.

"Hang your coat on the hook by the door, next to mine, Fred" Claire called out as she heard the door close with a solid thump. Fred did as he was told, then followed Bran into the kitchen.

Upon entering, they found Claire leaning on a chair placed in front of the sink. "Up you go Fred. Second thing you do when you enter this house is wash up." Claire spoke as she dried her own hands with a kitchen towel. "Hands, Face and Neck. Soap and water, if you please," she continued as she turned the water on. "I would like for you to wash all the way up to your elbows, so lets roll up those sleeves, shall we?" When Fred climbed up, Claire instructed, "Wet your hands first" and when he had, she taped the cake of soap sitting in the dish by the sink. "Our entire hands, Fred," she said firmly. "In between the fingers and under your nails. "Then, your face." She handed him the kitchen towel when he was finished then she helped him with his neck and ears, using the wet towel when he was done. "Very good Fred. If it is raining, and you are wet, there are extra towels in the scullery to dry off with. That goes for Bran as well" and she nodded her head at the dog. Bran had hopped up beside Fred on the chair and was standing on his back legs with his front paws resting on the sink. He had been snapping at the soap bubbles and watching the entire proceeding with great interest.

As Fred, followed by Bran, jumped down, Claire said "leave the chair please, we'll need it in a minute to wash the apples" and she went to the door that led to the front entry, opened it and called out "hello the house." Returning to the table, she said to Fred, "let's unpack the groceries Mr. Randall brought back from the store before we start on the pie, shall we?" and began to sort through the purchases Frank had made at the grocer's for her.

Only Bran noticed Jamie watching from the scullery. Jamie put his index finger to his lips before he slipped back out the door, as Bran's head cocked to the side, watching. Only two dirty footprints were proof he had been there.

"Well, hello the house back. Oh, I see we have company." Frank said as he entered the kitchen. "Shall I put the kettle on and make us some tea, Claire?" he asked as he walked toward the sink to fill the kettle with water. Through the window he noticed Jamie walk off toward the barn. Frank exhaled loudly. After last night's outburst to Claire, in front of Jamie, he felt awkward around the man. As he knew he should be. His confession, it would seem, had been no surprise to either of them. Only the fact that he had actually admitted it, had stunned them. Claire, after a moment, had taken it all in stride, but then he supposed she must have always known how he felt about her, and never, it would seem, had she ever returned those feeling, in any way. It had been an act of cowardice not to verbalize his feelings for her long before yesterday but he had tried, quite often, to show her. Yesterday had been a last ditch effort on his part. He clearly understood now, that he must let her go. Afterwards, Fraser had be understanding, he thought, almost _too_ kind. They had shaken hands and downed several drinks to break the tension, after all was said and done. But later, when he had said an early _Good Night_ and gotten to his feet, Fraser had walked him to the door of the sitting room to see him up the stairs. When he had turned at the landing, Claire had taken her place by Fraser's side and the man, while looking directly at him, had possessively placed an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. Fraser had given him a look, as if in warning, not to try it again; he would brook no future trespass. She belonged to Fraser, his embrace of her had meant, and the look he received told him that Fraser would react quite differently if there were any further attempts to woo her. No, his relationship with Fraser was strained at best and totally of his own making. Which was too bad, for he really rather admired the man.

"Oh yes, please. I could do with a nice cup of Oolong." Claire answered, snapping him from his thoughts. "How lovely. Thank you Frank. Would you like one Fred?"

Fred shook his head _No._

"Perhaps a cup of buttermilk?"

Fred smiled.

"Right then, one cup of buttermilk, coming up." She collected the buttermilk, a cup and a box of biscuits from the pantry and returned to the table. She poured the buttermilk and handed the cup to Fred, watching as he gulped it down. He looked up at her with a milk mustache, wiped it away with his tongue and smiled. With John's help, Claire had attempted to make a small batch of homemade butter the afternoon he and Frank had arrived. The buttermilk was a by-product of that effort. She hoped the butter was good, she planed use it tonight.

She looked up from the purchases and smiled. "It looks like you found everything on the list, but I don't see a vegetable? Did we have enough ration coupons?"

" _Yes_ we had enough coupons for what I got and _No_ , not everything on the list, but almost. Not a lot of choices still for vegetables. No canned peas but they did have fresh brussel sprouts so I got them and more carrots. Also I got ground lamb as there was no ground beef and was only allowed 5 lbs of potatoes. We both know _Your Fraser_ can eat that by himself," Frank replied. He set the kettle on the lit burner and walked back to the table. "Nice to see you again, Fred" and he tousled the boy hair.

Fred made a face and swatted at Frank's hand.

"I don't think he likes that Frank," Claire advised. She had caught the _Your Fraser_ comment but decided to let it pass. Frank would have to figure out his place in all this. She would just need to be consistent on how she dealt with him. At least things were out in the open now. If she treated Frank with the same respect and friendship she always had, she hoped it would allow things to fall naturally into place, just with a better understanding of where things stood between the three of them. She and Jamie needed to get married, and not just because of Frank. The sooner, the better.

"I'll bet I have something Master Fred will like." Frank said as he dug into one of the bags and pulled out a Kit-Kat bar.

"Where in the world did you get that Frank?" Claire gasped. Chocolate has been rationed forever!" She smiled and turned to Fred, "have you ever had chocolate?"

Fred shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, you are about to, and I can guarantee you will love it. The man at the grocer actually sold me two. He knew we were staying with John and that Mary and her son were coming for supper... Hip Hastie, your Green Grocery's co-owner said that everyone should have their own stick so he allowed me two whole bars." Frank smiled and set the bar down on the table. He carefully opened the red packaging, treating it like it was gold. With equal care he unwrapped the silver foil. He broke off one stick and handed it to Claire and another stick and handed it to Fred.

Claire broke hers in half and handed half back to Frank. Claire took a bite and moaned in ecstasy; it had been so long. She remembered the American GI's had them in their K rations and used to share them. She could not remember if she'd had chocolate since. It melted in her mouth. "Thank you so much Frank. It's such a treat.

Frank popped his entire piece in his mouth at once and they turned to watch Fred. He was licking his fingers. His share was gone. "Mo Peas" he said and held out his hand.

"Sorry Fred. No more. You need to save room for dinner and we are having pie for dessert, remember?" Claire said.

Fred made a very sad face.

"Frank, be a doll and light the oven. Set it at 350°, please and thank you." Claire requested then went to the pantry. She removed the two aprons that were hanging inside on pantry door and pulled out the bowl of apples she had collected from the cellar before breakfast and walked it to the sink. "Hop to, Fred. You wash the apples and I shall peel and cord. Frank, you can sliced them." She tied an apron around her waist and then around Fred's. The three worked well together and the time went quickly, chopping enough for two pies, rather than the three Murtagh had requested. Frank tossed the apples back into the bowl as he finished slicing them and Claire carried the bowl to the table. Fred added the premeasured amounts of flour, sugar and cinnamon, freshly ground from the sticks Frank picked up at the store, while Claire tossed the apple with a large wooden spoon, making sure all the apples were coated with the concoction. She set the mixture aside.

Frank set a steaming cup of tea down in front of her as he slipped into the nearest chair and blew over the top of his own.

While it cooled, in a separate bowl, she had Fred add the flour as she measured it, then the cold, cubed butter, and as she cut the butter into the flour, she had Fred add the premeasured amounts of salt, sugar, and as she worked the dough, she had him add cold water until it looked, and felt, right. Fred happily threw flour on the table, and Claire showed him how to roll out the dough. In no time the pie crust bottoms were in the two tin pie pan and Claire held the bowl while Fred spooned the apples into place. Several dots of butter were added to the top and then, with Fred's help, the lattice top. From the scrapes of dough, Claire made a few leaves to adorn the top of each pie and then let Fred brush the tops with an frothy egg white. "Voilà" Claire said as she waved her hand over the two apple pies.

Carefully, Fred carried one to the oven as Claire followed behind him with the second. Frank opened the oven door, and using a kitchen towel, pulled out the middle rack. They set the pies on the rack, Frank pushed it in and shut the door. How long do I set the timer for?" He asked.

"40 minutes, please" Claire announced. "Shall we start on supper now, Fred?"

"What _is_ for supper?" Frank asked.

"Shepard's pie, brussell sprouts and rolls" she replied.

"Anything more I can do?" Frank asked.

"Hate to ask again, but the table needs to be set." Claire said with a weak smile.

"How many places then?" Frank said with a sigh.

"Lets see... Jamie, you, John, Murtagh and me, that's five. Mary and Rabbie, that's seven and Fred, makes eight." Claire counted aloud.

"Brom too," Fred chimed in.

"No," Claire said firmly.

And on that note, Frank left the kitchen for the dining room.

"Bran, will sit on the floor not on a chair at my supper table," Claire continued calmly. "Those are house rules. All dogs eat in the kitchen, on the floor." She turned to Bran and said "Sorry Bran."

Bran lowered his head, looked at the floor and sneezed.

 _Did he truly understand me?_ Claire wondered as she tucked her hair behind her ears. _No,_ she thought and shook her head. _How could she possibly even consider it a possibility..._ "Let me know if I need to iron any of the napkins, Frank," she called out.

Frank came back through the door that led to the dining room. "What are you shouting on about?" he asked.

"I asked if the napkins need to be ironed but lets use the napkin rings, shall we? They are in with the silverware. Top drawers of the hutch, I think." Claire said looking up from one of the grocery sacks. "Do you think it would be too formal to use a tablecloth, or should you just wipe the table down Frank?" she questioned. "Should I have a centerpiece, do you think? I could run out to the fields and see what I can find..."

Frank just shook his head. "It's not a party, Claire, just family and friends. The woman has already accepted the position. She will be living here. Don't make such a fuss." He looked at her with his eyebrows raised to emphasis his point. "You want this MacNab person to feel at home, not like a guest, right? So don't treat her like she is one. She and John are not strangers, after all."

"You're right, as usual, Frank."

He smiled at the comment. "Hey, I heard Murtagh might be a little sweet on the widowed woman."

Claire look up from the table. "What? I thought so too when I saw them together this morning. I think they were actually flirting with each other." She grinned.

"No!" Frank gasped in surprise. "I thought John was just teasing me!"

"Yes." Claire said. "I told Jamie about it but he _poo-poo'd_ the idea. Said his godfather was a confirmed bachelor. I told him maybe Murtagh had just not met the right woman until now..."

"Really?" Frank said. "How interesting" and he walked back into the dining room.

With Fred's help, Claire managed to put away the items Frank purchased, except for the ones they would need tonight. She checked the clock. 3:40. The pies would not come out until 4pm. She needed to put the potatoes on to boil. Once again, Fred washed, Claire peeled, and this time chopped as well, while the pot of water reached a boil. Claire had just added the potatoes to the salted water, placed the lid on the pot and turned the flame down to medium when Jamie entered through the scullery door.

"Feet, Jamie" She called out without even looking.

Jamie and Fred exchanged looks and Jamie walked back outside. Seconds later, he returned.

"That did not take you very long, Jamie. You had better not track any dirt into this kitchen or you and the broom will become better acquainted."

Fred laughed.

Jamie snorted as he hung up his jacket and walked into the kitchen. Claire still had her back to him as his eyes drifting toward the pantry.

"Stay out of the pantry, my good sir, until you wash your hands and face, please." Claire pointed a finger at the sink as she stirred the melting butter she'd placed in a large, cast iron frying pan.

"Do you have eyes in the back of your heid woman?" Jamie commented and 'winked' at Fred. Instead of going to the sink, he walked up to Claire and leaned against the counter as she slid the chopped onions from the cutting board into the buttery pan. Fred, standing on the chair, stirred the onions as they instantly began to cook in the hot butter.

"Fred, yoo are quite a fine assistant. Claire is verra lucky you decided to come to help today." Jamie smiled at Claire.

"He has been an enormous help this afternoon." Claire said. She put an arm around Fred and gave him a hug. "I am not quite sure I could have managed without him. _And_ do not think you can distract me into remembering you have not washed your hands. Hop to it, Jamie. Set an example for our young, impressionable supper guest."

"Well Fred, I was wonder'n if yoo," Jamie began, "Claire and I could have a wee chat about Bran at the table?" and he nodded toward the table by the fireplace. Bran, comfortably lying on the rug in front of the fire; on his back, chin up and legs splayed. At the sound of his name, he rolled onto his side, opened one eye and yawned. Claire turned the tap on and held out the bar of soap. "As soon as I wash up, that is." He took the bar of soap from her hand, kissed her on the cheek and began to wash.

Fred set the spoon down on the counter, hopped down from the chair and crossed the room. Claire handed Jamie the towel and turned to finish cooking the onions while Jamie took the chair and followed Fred back to the table. Claire lowered the heat, walked to the pantry and grabbed a large green bottle from the floor. She pulled the cork and poured the dark brown liquid into a glass, making sure it developed a frothy tan head on the top. She took a sizable sip and handed the pint glass to Jamie and set the rest of the bottle on the table. He took a taste and smiled, all the way to his eyes. He turned the bottle to look at the label, _Guinness_ _Foreign Extra Stout_. He took a good sized swallow and turned to Claire, "I like this one, I ken taste the hops. Is it Scottish?"

"No, Guinness is an Irish beer," she tapped her lip with her finger. "Foam" she said and smiled.

Jamie ran his tongue over his upper lip and asked "better?"

She nodded. "There are leftover bannocks in the basket in front of you. Only two, Jamie. Please don't spoil your appetite." She added and walked back to the stove to continue cooking the onions.

Jamie took another large swallow of the beer, whistled to himself as he set the glass down and reached for the basket. At the same time, he moved the chair so that it's back was toward Fred and sat down, facing Fred, resting his arm on the chair's back. He fished out a bannock with his other and took a huge bite.

Fred smiled and looked down at Bran then back up at Jamie. "Frog Brom me" he stated decidedly as he watched the Red Man chew.

Jamie's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Frog Brom Me" he repeated after he swallowed and took another drink of Guinness, to make sure he heard the lad correctly.

Fred nodded his head.

Bran, hearing his name, stood up, walked over to Jamie, setting his head on Jamie's knee. He raised his eyes to look up at him; black eyes beseeching blue ones.

"Do not allow that dog to beg, Jamie. Do not reward him, please." Claire asked.

Jamie looked over his shoulder. No, Claire was still cook'n over the fire. "Ye are a witch, ye ken that Claire," he stated as he looked down at the pup and proceeded to scratch Bran's ear. The pup's fur matched the color of a red deer. His da had commented more than once that Bran would be mistaken for one, even without the antlers. The pup had long legs like a deer and feet as large as frying pans. He had the same black muzzle and the ears, tail and the toes of the two hind paws all looked as they had been dipped in the same black. The eyes were dark as midnight. It was most definitely his da's dog. Jamie began, "Me? That's simple enough, _Me_ would be Fred."

Fred nodded his head.

"Right then," Claire said as she watched from the stove. " _Brom_ is Fred's pronunciation of _Bran"_ She reduced the heat under the onions and walked to the table to collect the ground lamb wrapped in butcher's paper.

Bran barked.

Claire placed her hand on Jamie's shoulder and he reached up and covered it with his. With the one simple gesture, they had both quietly agreed that the question needed to be asked. "Who or what is Frog, Fred?" Jamie asked.

"Ribbit, ribbit" was Fred's reply. Claire gripped Jamie's shoulder, not with her nails, but firmly enough that he garnered a look. One glace at her face told him, she ken; she ken what the lad was telling them.

Her eyes closed as she remembered the first time she'd see her father after he had left her as an infant. _She was living with Henry and Julia, and a man she'd never seen before, came to visit. Came for tea, she remembered because she was in her favorite dress and shinny new patent leather Mary Jjeans. Julia had given her a bath that very morning, which was odd because she always had her bath at night, before bed. Her hair had been washed with Julia's special lavender soap. It had always been Claire's favorite. Still to this day, she can not smell lavender without a memory of Julia returning. Julia had been pulling at her curls with a brush in an attempt to control her hair, to the point that Claire had begun to cry. Henry had come in to try and help, scooping Claire into his lap and reading the next chapter of "The Wind in the Willows" to her as Julia pulled and tugged and straightened. Exasperated, Julia had finally set the brush down and tied a ribbon in her hair. She remembered the man was very small, compared to the Lambert's, more her height than theirs, and he told her all about the flowers in their garden as they walked, teaching her all their proper Latin names. She was even allowed to stay for tea and drink from the special china tea cups and have, not one, but two of the lovely almond cookies the man had brought with him. From China he had whispered to her. She could have only been three or four... No, it had been her fifth birthday... just before Henry and Julia had... the car accident... She caught her breath. After the man left, while she stood on a chair to helped wash the tea things, Henry had asked if she enjoyed the visit. She had, she had told them. She had enjoyed visiting with Mr. Toad, and "ribbit, ribbit" she had said, then asked if Peter Rabbit and his sisters, Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotten-tail could come the next day._

"Raymond" Claire whispered. "You know Raymond, Fred?"

As Fred nodded his head, Jamie turned to look at Claire. His fingers began drumming away on the back of the chair.

No poker face anywhere to be seen, Claire noted. Clearly he was surprised. She'd gotten the drop on him for once. Then, the corner of his mouth turned up. There, he's got it, she thought; he was never stumped for long. She slipped her hand out from under his and began to comb his hair with her fingernails. So many lovely curls and so much color. She sighed.

Fred nodded his head. "Wait Stone buzz. Ribbit-ribbit. Brom. Ribbit hide. Rain. Boom. Cush." and he ducked his head as if the sounds of the storm had come alive in the kitchen of Lallybroch. "Stone buzz. Woff." and Fred eyes filled with terror, his body trembled as he carefully scanned the room almost as if he thought the wolf might be there. "Tomas find. Home. No Red Man." Fred smiled and poked Jamie with his finger. "Red Man here. For Chair." and he took a bite of Jamie's bannock and chewed, followed by a sip of his beer. "Brom me Frog ribbit. Keep."

Bran barked in concurment.

Frank walked back into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Jamie. "Good China or every day plates, Claire?" never taking his eyes off Jamie's back.

"Chak, Peas" Fred asked and held out his hand to Frank.

"Chocolate, I think," Claire translated.

"Oh, I think we might be in trouble over this, Claire." Frank said and smiled. "Can he have another piece?"

"How much is left?" Claire asked. "Fred has been very helpful today."

"A bar and a half" Frank answered, watching Jamie watch Claire.

"That's six sticks. We need to save enough for John, Murtagh, Mary and Rabbie to each have a piece and Jamie has not tried it yet" Claire said.

"Tried what, exactly, Claire?" Jamie asked as his eyes went from Fred to Claire and now rested on Frank.

"A Chocolate Bar. You've never had one, have you?"

"I do'na ken _chocolate bar_ but I ken of _Chocolate Houses_ in Paris. And London, though I have never been. 'Tis a drink they serve at certain taverns; a drink for the wealthy, aye? Te answer ye question, _No_ I have never been to one." Jamie answered. "Why do ye ask?"

"Well, Jamie," Claire began. "Now we have the same chocolate, only in bars... uhm, pieces, like chips."

Jamie's eyes widened at the mention of chips. "I like chips. I've never tasted chocolate. Does it taste good together? Chips that taste like chocolate?"

Fred tapped Jamie's hand so he turned to look at him. Fred's head was nodding like a bobblehead.

"You can pick the chocolate up and eat it with your fingers." Claire said. "Get the open one out, Frank, and let's split a stick for Jamie to try and to reward Fred here."

Frank followed as instructed and Jamie watched as Fred placed the entire piece in his mouth. The euphoric smile that crossed the boys face made Jamie laugh. Jamie looked down at the brown stick he held between his thumb and forefinger. He sniffed it, then looked up at Claire? Do yoo eat it?" He asked. "It looks like _shite._ "

"Jamie!" Claire expelled with astonishment. "Do you really think I would do that to you? You just saw Fred eat his half. Honestly?" The look of shock was very apparent.

Jamie turned and looked at Frank. He glared long enough to make Frank shift his feet. "It's chocolate Jamie, honest." Frank confirmed.

"Jamie," Claire said, "Look" and she raised his hand and took a small bite out of his piece. She made almost the same face Fred did.

"Sassenach! I ken that face. When I..."

"Jamie!" Claire shouted. Eyes wide open with shock. "Don't you say another word. Just eat the bloody piece of chocolate. Please. Or give it to Fred."

"Give what to Fred?" John asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Fred!" Rabbie shouted as he pushed passed John.

Fred jumped up and ran to Rabbie. Bran jumped up and down beside them, barking as they flew out the kitchen door, back the way Rabbie had entered.

"John," Frank started, "Please tell Jamie that I am not trying to poison him."

"Oh? And why would I need to do that?" John asked as he looked into the faces of all three adults as he took a seat in Fred's abandoned chair, near the fire.

"Frank brought back Kit Kat's from the Green Grocer's today" Claire explained. "We gave Jamie a piece to try... and, well... Jamie won't try it... he doesn't seem to trust us."

Jamie held his piece up for John to examine. "What? Oh, Jamie, yoo mean te tell me ye've never had chocolate before? Trust me lad, just pop that in yer mouth. It'll be like kiss'n Claire. I promise ye that." He smiled as he pushed Jamie's hand back toward his mouth. "Go on. Try it. I give ye my solemn word..." and he winked... "if you don't love that little brown piece of _heaven_ in your hands, I'll do yer chores for a week."

Jamie looked back at Claire. Nothing could replace his Sassenach's kisses.

"Jamie. You've always try anything once... even my poisonous tomatoes. If you really don't want it, put it down, then. I won't be upset with you." Claire said. She couldn't believe he would not even try it.

Jamie, with trepidation, placed his tongue on the piece he held.

"Oh Jamie, really. Give it to me then. No harm, no foul." And when she went to reached for it, he popped it in his mouth like Fred had. And slowly, he chewed. And the more he chewed, the faster he chewed. And the look of concern turned to neutrality, that turned to a smile that turned to happiness written all over his face. And when he was finished chewing, he licked his fingers. And when he was finished cleaning his fingers, he turned to Frank and said "More, please" and held out his hand.

"Where are Mary and Murtagh?" Claire asked John.

"Well, I thought they were right behind Rabbie and I... they were in the truck, I ken because Murtagh drove so they are here, somewhere."

We'll, we best go find them," Jamie said.

"No, Jamie. Let Murtagh and Mary be." Claire said. "I need you to come with me." She took him by the hand, led him into the front yard and directly to the parked truck. She opened the drivers door, climbed in and slid over to the middle of the bench seat. She turned to Jamie and said, "Get in. You want to learn to drive, don't you?"

Jamie grinned and jumped in behind the wheel and closed the door. Placing both hands on the steering wheel, he turned to look at Claire.

"Alright tiger, slow down. I promise we will leave the yard." She said with a laugh. "You've been through the lessons long enough, lets start the bloody truck.

Jamie reached for the start button on the dash.

Claire gently placed her hand on his arm and said "Not yet. First, check your mirror. Make sure they are adjusted to you, also the seat. You should not have the steering wheel in your chest." Claire showed him how to adjust the seat to the the correct position and the mirrors so he could see. "Always start any vehicle in neutral and your foot on the brake. I know you know where that is, so put the truck in neutral, please.

Jamie found it without any issues. He smiled.

Claire smiled back. "Good. Now you are ready to start the truck."

Jamie placed his hand on the button and pushed. The truck roared to life. Jamie's face was beaming when he turned to her. "I love ye, Claire."

"I love you too, Jamie. Now with one foot on the brake, no, no now wait a minute... "

Jamie took his foot off the clutch and looked at her. "That's no right, Claire?"

"Well, yes, but I want to go over a couple of things with you before the truck starts moving."

Jamie snorted.

"I'll forgive you for that," she said and continued. You are going to put the truck in first, and the as you depress the gas pedal with your right foot, you are going to ease off the clutch with your left, at about the same rate, alright?"

Jamie nodded. He depressed the clutch, put the truck into first and then as he pressed down on the gas, he released the clutch. Perfectly. The truck moved forward without a jump or a jerk.

"That was perfect Jamie." Claire said with awe.

His smile went past beaming into glowing. He got to the end of the drive and stopped, looked both ways and then turned left. Not a hitch, sputter or jerk. Claire did not have to tell him when to shift or about hand singles. She sat back in the seat and just enjoyed the ride. She enjoyed being the passenger as she watched the majestically, multicolored scenery pass before her eyes. She had not noticed just how far along fall become. Some of the trees had started to loos their leaves and soon enough, the roads would be covered with the fallen leaves. It was clear winter was coming. Jamie whistled as he drove them into town and parked across the street from the Lost Lamb. He hopped out of the truck and then helped Claire as she slid across the bench seat to the door he held open for her. He held her hand as they crossed the street and opened the tavern door for her to enter. Once inside, he took Claire's coat and escorted her to an empty booth.

"Wait while I get us an ale. I'll be right back." He was grinning ear to ear. Claire slid into the booth and found herself smiling. She and Jamie were on a date. He had driven her to the bar, helped her with the door and her coat and was now getting them refreshments. An honest to God date. Just the two of them. She shook her head in disbelief.

Suddenly "JAMIE" erupted. Someone shouted, then someone else and then someone else. Claire didn't count or look over. She just looked at her fidgeting hands. He would remember. He would come back, she told herself. Then there were slaps on the back and _Good te see ye's_ and _Come, let me buy ye a drink_ and _Come sit with us, we've got a table by the fire. And laughing, loads of laughter._ And then quiet. _Please, don't let him forget me_ , she said to herself and she took a deep breath. Suddenly Jamie was there, setting two pints down and sliding in next to her. He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her up against him. Claire leaned her head on his shoulder and rested her hand on his thigh. They just sat like that, silent, content, just grinning at nothing, and drank their ale.

Dinner was wonderful. Good friends and good food. Laughter all around. Mary had finish the Sheppard's Pie, putting it in the oven after the pies had finished baking. She heated the rolls from the bakery and was just sliding the brussell sprouts under the broiler when Jamie and Claire returned. No one seemed to miss them. At all.

John provided two very nice bottles of wine and there was coffee and pie in the sitting room.

All too soon, it was 8 pm. "We have to get back," Mary said sadly. "I have to be up before light to get the breakfast started. Murtagh says we will see you tomorrow in church. I'll try and hold seats fe ye all" and she smiled at Murtagh.

Claire could swear Murtagh blushed and she exchanged a knowing glance with Frank.

Jamie stood. "Claire and I will take yoo home. We have te return Fred to Thistle Pond so yoo'll be on our way."

"I heard Jamie organized a shinty match on the pitch of the school after church." Mary stated to Murtagh. "I was thinking I might bring Rabbie, so's he could learn the game. Will yo be play'n?" She asked hesitantly.

"Shinty?" Murtagh looked from Mary to John to Jamie, raising an eyebrow in question. "No one said anythin' to me about camanachd _(shinty)_. And why would that be?" He inquired looking straight at Jamie.

"Because I ken ye'd play so there was no point in ask'n, aulde man." Jamie pronounced and elbowed his godfather in the ribs.

"Oh, aye." John said. "That's a safe bet. I think up on the third floor I still have several

of my aulde caman _(sticks)_ , maybe even a ball or two. You and I can go up and look, Murtagh, after company is gone."

Murtagh nodded, though he really had thought he'd be driving Mary and the lad home.

"And Mary, tomorrow, after church, we'll swing by and pick up your bags and bring ye and Rabbie home te Lallybroch, if yoo'll have us." John announced.

Everybody turned to look at Mary with great expectation; waiting to hear her reply. Rabbie stepped up next to his mam and spoke for them, "Yes. Yes, mam and I would love to come live here with all of you." He nodded his head to Mr. Murray in thanks.

"Are yer sure ye want us?" Mary asked with a slight blush to her cheeks.

A resounding "Yes" was said by all. Bran even wagged his tail. John stepped up to Rabbie and shook his hand. An agreement had been made.

"You'll have all meals with us then, starting with tomorrow's dinner after church, Mary," Claire said and gave her a warm hug and a welcoming smile. "and Rabbie of course," Claire added, winking at the boy. "Welcome to Lallybroch the both of you."

Jamie drove. Absolutely no errors. It was almost infuriating. They dropped Mary and Rabbie off at the Bed and Breakfast and then on to Thistle Pond. They parked in the yard and Fred and Bran jumped out and ran into the house. Jamie, took the pie from from her hand and helped Claire, once again, out of the truck. They had just closed the fence gate, when the porch light came on and the door opened. Claire held her breath. Seamus appeared in the doorway. Smiling.

"Come in, come in," he said as he stepped aside to let them pass. Jane came through the kitchen door in the back of the room, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hello Claire. Jamie." She said and smiled. "Can I get ye somethi'n te drink? Coffee? An ale perhaps?" Jamie looked at Claire, then spoke, "Some other time perhaps, if that's alright. We need to get back."

"This is a pie Fred and I made for the family. To thank you for allowing Fred and Bran to come for supper." Claire added and handed the pie to Jane.

"We enjoyed having the lad." Jamie continued.

"He is such a joy. So well behaved." Claire amended.

Jane smiled. "He's in the kitchen now. Tell'n his mam all about it. Thank ye kindly for the pie. We'll have a piece with our coffee. It smells delicious, Claire."

Jamie took Claire's arm and they left the way they came. When they turned to climb back into the truck, Jane and Seamus waved from the door. "See ye in church tomorrow," Jane shouted.

Claire waved in return and climbed in. Jamie slipped in beside her. "Are ye alright Claire?" He asked.

"Yes," was all she said and she turned and kissed his cheek. "Jane is a friend, I'm sure. But those women, Jamie, they won't scare me away. I'll be back."

He looked at her and smiled. "I never doubted ye, Claire."

Taking a back road was all he said. Liar. They were parked. On the top of some hill that overlooked Broch Mordha.

"Seriously Jamie?" Claire said incredulously. "You've take'n me _Parking_ at some _Make out spot_?"

Jamie returned her look with one of confusion. "What is _Parking_? What is _Make out spot?"_

He seriously had no idea, she told herself. "How did you hear about this lovely view?" She asked and waved an hand at the window.

"Rabbie. Fred and Tomas' brother. Why?" Jamie asked. "Do ye no care for the view? There are several other cars up here. They seem te like it. Do ye think if it were light, we could see Lallybroch from here?" He leaned forward to look.

 _Like the 6 inches was going to give him a much better view,_ Claire said to herself. "Yes, there are several other vehicles up here, Jamie. All parked. Enjoying _**a**_ view." She said slowly, as she looked at the cars on either side of them. Both with steamed up windows. "It was nice of Rabbie to recommend it."

"It was, wasn't it?" He said and turned to Claire and smiled. "He said today, with it be'n your last night and all, I might want to do something special with ye."

"And he recommended this, did he?" She asked with a smirk.

"Yes, he said the view was nice and that you would really enjoy it up here."

"Oh, I'm sure he did and I'm sure I will" and she giggled.

"What's so funny, Sassenach?"

"Jamie, this is a make out spot. Where people, mostly teens, come to suck face." She said and out right laughed, flopping back in the seat and looking up at the truck's headliner. Jamie had brought her here to make out. She was quite sure her face was bright red from embarrassment.

"Suck face?"

"Engage in amorous kissing. Passionate petting. Stealing Bases. The four F's... Pick your descriptor, Jamie."

"Amorous and passionate kissing, aye Claire, I ken those. But what is petting, steal bases or four f's?" He turned to look at her.

"Oh, you really don't know, do you?" Claire said and turned on the seat so she now faced him. "Wwweelll then, let me educate you, my love." and she walked her fingers down the the back of the truck's seat until she reached his shoulder.

Jamie watched out of the corner of his eye as her fingers finally rested on his shoulder. From that perch, Claire used her fingers to trace his, ear and jawline. It tickled. He turned to look at her and when he did, she licked her lips, so slowly, that he found himself mirroring her tongue. She gently bit her lower lip and looked at up at him through her lashes. He sucked in a breath and pulled on his own lip in return.

Claire slowly leaned forward, with her lips slightly apart, only looking at his mouth as she did. She came 95% of the way and stopped.

Jamie could hardly breath. He couldn't take her eyes off her mouth. He wet his own as she moved closer, preparing to kiss him. Her hand guiding his chin... And then she stopped. He pulled back and looked at her. She was waiting, eyes closed, for him to kiss her. He smiled. He could play this game.

He moved his lips closer, almost touch hers. A piece of paper would not fit between them and then he paused. He counted, 1, 2, 3 and softly touched her lips with his. They melted into each other. A kiss like no other. His Sassenach released a quiet moaned. That soft, sweet noise that make him loon for her. She opened her mouth and received his tongue, just tips, touching. Jamie turned his head, so their noses were no longer in the way and he could press his lips to her, harder; open his mouth wider, insert more of his tongue. And when the kiss was done, and they separated, they were both panting. Hard.

"First Base" Claire struggled to say. "The first "F" - French Kissing. And sighed.

Jamie smiled and turned on the seat to face her. "French Kissing?"

"It's kissing with tongues." and she sighed, a second time. "You are one hell of a kisser, you know that?"

"Thank you, Sassenach" and he smiled.

Claire picked up Jamie's hand and kissed the palm before moving it under her jumper and placing it on her breast. She knew Jamie did not need any coaching from that point on, so she leaned in to be kissed again. Jamie obliged her with yet another passionate kiss as his thumb found that Claire was still without her wee corset. He gently rubbed her nipple, until it was like a hard, wee nut, and Claire both moaned and sighed. As he thought about what he could do to it, if it were only in his mouth; the sounds he could elicit from her then. His finger and thumb began to pinch and pull on the nipple at the very thought, making Claire gasp.

Jamie's other hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her head closer to him. He wasn't finished French kissing her yet. With their lips locked, he slid out from behind the steering wheel, shifting to the middle of the bench seat and, with a little sadness, he removed his hand from her breast and lifted Claire onto his lap. Both his hands coming to rest on her beautiful, round arse. Better. Claire grabbed Jamie's face with both her hands and began to French Kiss with an whole new vigor. She licked his lips and as he tried to pull her into a kiss, she pulled away. She pulled her jumper off and let it drop to the floor. Only as she pulled her blouse free from her skirt's waistband did she allowed Jamie to capture her mouth again. Jamie needed no direction. With her blouse free, he slipped his hands under the shirt tail and around her waist. As their tongues danced, his hands moved upward until he was messaging one nipple, pulling and twisting the other.

Claire broke the kiss and leaned back and moaned, loudly, with pleasure. "Mouth." she gasped. "Nipple. Please" she moaned again and rocked against his groin as her fingers furiously unbuttoned her top.

Jamie pushed the blouse open as Claire raised up on her knees and leaned in, offering her bare breasts to him. Jamie first licked then suckled her left breast like it was that piece of chocolate.

"Other. Please." Claire begged as her hands found purchase tangled in Jamie's hair.

"Oh God, Claire," he managed to utter as he moved to the other breast. Jamie gave ministration to the right, with equal fervor. Growling as he did. His hand reached to cup her between her legs, the heel of his hand rubbing her sweet spot.

"Second Base," Claire whispered as he released her breast. "The second F – Feeling Up."

Claire started to move her hips in rhythm with Jamie's hand. She couldn't help it. She wanted, no needed, friction, to feel him, to rub his very noticeable hard on with her extremely wet crotch. He was making a not so private tent out of his kilt and she wanted to dance on the pole. She released his tongue and lips and moved to his neck, sucking and biting as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his shirt. She shifted to kiss his chest and to lick and bite his nipples, and Jamie's hands shifted to her thighs. Claire, caught up in the moment, bit Jamie a little harder than she meant to and Jamie hissed. She stopped and looked at him. "Do you want me to stop?" She asked breathlessly. Wetting her lips.

Jamie could not focus enough to make coherent sound so he just shook his head _No._

Claire smiled and slipped off Jamie's lap so she was kneeling on the floor of the truck, one knee resting on her jumper. She looked up at Jamie and their eyes meet. She smiled and lifted Jamie's kilt.

Jamie made a sound she'd never heard before, almost a sob, as he held her head between his legs, fisting her hair. Claire licked and sucked and gently fingered his balls.

Jamie groaned and lifted her face. His eyes so sated. "You," he said and kissed her.

Somehow she managed to turn around so that she was standing and scrunched over the dash as she removed her panties. Her ass practically in Jamie's face.

He instinctively he rested his cheek on her arse, kissing both of hers as he did. His hands naturally went to caress her hips and then one drifted to her honeypot. His finger ken what she wanted, needed. He glided it over her nub. Claire gasped. He moved passed it to find her wetness and the began to circle her nub. Clair shifted her weight, moving her feet and spreading her legs wider, providing him not only a better view but easier access. He took his other hand, intending to wet that finger and change hands, but when it slipped inside her... the noises. Such sweet noises she made. He could not help himself. He slipped in a second finger and he bit and then sucked her arse. Marking her left cheek and then the right. It was her fault. She put that bonnie arse in his face, what had she expect.

"Third Base" she barely uttered. "The Third F – Finger Fuck.

She turned and almost fell on Jamie. Still standing, though bent at a 90° angle, her hands resting on Jamie's shoulders. Her lips found his. So soft and sweet and gentle the kiss started became harder, more furious. His hands found purchase on her waist and slid up her sides until his thumbs could, once again, rub circles on her nipples.

Oh God, Jamie" Claire moaned. With her panties gone, he raised his kilt and he held his cock with two fingers as she sat down. On him. And he growled as he slipped inside her, tight, wet and warm honeypot. And she whimpered as he slid inside her, hard, big and long. He'd thrust up as she slammed down and when he thrust up into her as far as he could, there was a slapping sound as her arse met his ballocks. And when she slammed down, taking all of him into her, there was a wet, slippery sound. And they worked each other until they both shared the same release and fell into each others arms. Gasping for breath and their bodies wet with sweat.

"Home." Claire managed to utter into his neck, between gasps of air. "The Fourth F – Fucking."

And they both snorted, then laughed.

They thought they were being quiet when they slipped into the house, careful to quietly close the door behind them. With any luck, everyone would already be asleep in bed. They giggled and kissed and fondled each other as they made their way down the hall, straight for the stairs. They turned and Claire took the first stair when Jamie spun her around and pulled her into another passionate, wet kiss. She climbed into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, never breaking the kiss.

Murtagh stepped out into the hall from the front parlor. "There ye two are. Where have ye been? We were start'n to worry that ye might'a had trouble with the truck."

Jamie and Claire stopped kissing and Claire carefully climbed down from Jamie's body, to stand on the first step. Jamie took Claire's hand in his and slowly turned around so that they both faced his Godfather. Jamie's hair wet and windblown, waist coat unbuttoned, shirt un-tucked and several newly formed hickey's starting to appear on his neck and chest. Claire was even worse. Swollen lips, sweater dragging on the floor from one hand and her panties dangling from their joined hands, shirt un-tucked and miss-buttoned, several newly formed marks of her own on her neck (and ass) and hair as wet and windblown as Jamie's.

Both John and Frank came stand on either side of Murtagh. "What the hell happened to ye two? Did ye get stuck in a storm?" Murtagh asked, face knotted with concern as his eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them.

Claire started to giggle as Jamie replied, "Claire taught me how to play baseball."

"Well, we don't need to ask what bases he stole," Frank said. "Clearly he made it home" and he turned and walked back into the parlor.

Claire and Jamie first snorted, in an attempt to hold back the laughter that quickly followed suit. They turned and ran up the stairs.

John and Murtagh were still looking at the stairs when they hear a door close. The laird's bedroom door.

They turned in unison, their eyes falling on Frank to explain what just transpired.

"You're going to need a fresh drink for this one, fellas" Frank said as he waved the bottle of whiskey.

"I was gonna tell Jamie about the caman we found upstairs." Murtagh said to John as they walked back into the parlor. He glanced one last time at the staircase and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Sometimes, he plain and simple, did no understand his godson. He took the glass that Frank offered and swallowed it in one gulp.


End file.
